Parasites
by DaifukuBun
Summary: After attempting suicide, Arthur Kirkland opens his eyes in a field of wheat. He meets a strange person in the woods, who gives him a second chance at life. He must now kill the killers, the parasites of the world. Based strongly off of The Cat Lady. OOC!2p!Hetalia. Rated M for gore and disturbing themes. I know the genre says horror and tragedy, but it's so much more than that.
1. Prologue

**AN: If you don't do well with horror, gore, suicide, depression, and offensive terms, I suggest you leave now. This story will have plenty of that stuff. Also, this is 2p!Hetalia, not regular Hetalia, so the characters will have different qualities, MUCH different qualities. Although I did deviate from the 2p personalities quite a bit, so yes, OOC. It's going to be hella confusing from here on out, just warning you, but it should make at least a smidgen of sense by the end. I do not own Hetalia, or The Cat Lady. So, shall we begin?**

**Arthur's POV**

ooo

"My name is Arthur Kirkland. I live alone in this two-bedroom flat, and I rarely go outside to say hello like I used to."

I stared dully at the wall clock as I wrote this, my vision betraying the will to. The cat's tail swung back and forth, back and forth, back and forth...

"Some would say it's a lonely life, and I guess that's true, but I just don't like other peoples' company. Not lately, anyway."

The minute hand of the clock moved ever-so-slightly. The little patched Scottish fold resting on my bed pawed at my hand, glaring up at me accusingly. He swished his cottony tail and blinked his little green eyes.

"I only trust my cats these days, and I will miss them dearly. But they will understand, like they always have..."

I scratched his floppy little ear.

"Teacup stays with me 'till the end. He watches me, as if he knew..."

Teacup moved from his spot on my bed, and leaped up onto my piano, striking a few high-pitched notes in the process. He shallowly jumped to the top, sitting and staring at me again. It seemed he didn't want my affection at that moment.

"Because... earlier tonight, I swallowed a whole bunch of pills. They're legal, of course. Prescribed by my doctor for mood swings. But I've taken thirty-four of them. All I could find in the cupboard... and now the room around me spins in a blurry tango as my heart slows down."

A moth flitted at the window, its wings beating the glass in a startling sound. The dirty plate I had just used now sat near, with useless crumbs littering its surface in different constellations and sizes. The moth flew away as it noticed my dizzy presence, panicking away from me, as if I were some kind of monster.

"Any second now, I will be dead. I feel calm, I'm ready for it. I've only got one thing to say now."

The ballpoint pen made a rolling sound through the crinkled paper I was using. It protested as my writing became stranger, and less focused. The dim light fixture above me cast everything in an ugly yellow.

"Thanks for nothing. Goodbye."

ooo


	2. House in the Woods

**AN: A quick and meant thank you to those who followed, favorited, and reviewed. Yeah, I'm sorry if this isn't as great, I've been really sick lately and who the hell knows what goes on in my head when I'm sick. Seriously. It's an enigma. Keep in mind that this is, in fact, 2p Hetalia, so don't be confused if I mention Artie's "blue" eyes or something. I don't write full chapters all in one day, because I have school and such, so I'll try to have a followup AN at the bottom of this little shenanigan. If I forget, oopsie-daisy, I mean, who even reads these anyway?**

**Anyhoo.**

**HOUSE IN THE WOODS**

ooo

I opened my tired eyes to the gentle breeze of a summer's day. Large wheat straws interrupted my line of vision in a golden frame, outlining the pristine and perfectly cloud-dappled blue sky nicely. It was such a peaceful scene, and any other would have stayed there for eternity. I wanted to, and the idea was truly appealing, but I knew I couldn't find peace in such a way.

I slowly stood, realizing that the dizziness and surreality from the drugs had vanished, and what was a barely remembered dull ache now completely gone. The golden straws around me waved with the breeze, tickling me about to my middle. My hair framed my vision, too, and I realized that maybe it was time for another trim as the obnoxious blonde irritated my eyes.

I walked, feeling as light as a feather in this field. The sunlight shone down brightly, showing some abstract objects in the distance. It was hard to make out what they were from here, but it looked to be a modern structure of some sort, and a large expanse of woods, very out of place near an innocent wheat field. I kept going, wanting to see what that structure was, wanting to explore those woods.

Why did I want to, though?

I felt that this was the afterlife, or perhaps, the bridge to. I felt like I wanted so desperately to stay here in Death's warm embrace, and yet, these ordinary things in the distance called out to me. I wanted to see them for myself. I can't exactly come up with a sufficient reason as to why.

Pondering this it would seem I lost track of time as the golden straws became fewer and far between. They became less and less, waving me an ominous goodbye as they stopped appearing all together, and then I was gone from that marvelous field of wheat. Progressively the sun had dimmed and left a darkening evening hue in its descent leaving me coated in shadows, but only slightly. I continued walking, seeing the peculiar structure from earlier.

It was a run-down old house, or a shack of sorts. There was a small, stubby flag rooted to the ground nearby, its cloth a smudged brown with bits missing. The windows on either side of the splintered door were covered in a thin cloth, but under that appeared to be boarded up with uncharacteristic precision.

I felt strangely drawn to this place, and somehow knew I must find a way to unlock the door and get inside.

It was odd, though. From the field this building looked so much bigger and full of color. I then realized that a short distance away was a ruined parking garage, it was littered with red graffiti, and it must have made the shack look bigger from the angle I was moving in the field. Honestly, I felt rather out of place near such a gangly structure, what with my pink sweater vest and neat bow tie. Despite this I approached it, curious, as I no longer had anything to lose.

Immediately upon entering I was faced with a humongous pile of metal and leather; a pile of demolished vehicles sat atop one another, twisted in agony. They were all a pale gray and seemed absolutely dead.

… Dead. Yes, isn't that what I was now? I must have died, at long last. I must have died and arrived here, and this is just some sort of world that has been created to my own dismay. It was probably created for the sole purpose of not letting me die, never letting me die. Always forcing me to move on even though I don't want to. All I wanted was to melt into nothingness, but it seemed that life wouldn't even allow me that small little luxury, and sent me to this world of awareness. I was tired of feigning bubbly happiness when I actually socialized, tired of making the same meal day after day (though, I was a five star chef in the cupcake department), tired of my neighbors, those worthless scum. They could rot in the devil's mouth for all I cared. And yet, here I was, fully aware of everything as this pile of rust and iron taunted me, without even making a slight flinch.

Not wanting to see it anymore, I maneuvered around it, sliding by the wall in order to reach farther crevices of this odd little garage.

Oil blotted the walls carelessly, dripping from the cracks and leaving a foul stench. An old bus still had its lights blinking, though there were no occupants inside. It was the light above the driver's seat, it blinked on and off, on and off, on and off.

I startled as a small piece of gravel hit the crown of my head directly, causing me to look up as the ceiling began to crumbling. I worried for a minute, thinking it was to collapse on top of me, but I stayed rooted to that spot. After a while, it stopped and stayed intact, causing me to sigh in disappointment. Maybe if I had stayed it would have left me at nothing.

Moving along for another short while, I came across a large paramedic ambulance, and it was completely blocking further entry. Its back doors were stained horribly with something red, and its sides were dented liberally, awfully.

It sent a wave of chills down my spine, making me shiver at nothing special as I stared at the broken vehicle.

Maybe there was no exit at all to this place. This ambulance was blocking whatever might have riddled even a small hole in the wall, much less an exit. I could go no further.

I turned away, wanting to go back to that wonderful field of wheat and its promise of peace. I wondered what in the world had convinced me to come here, to investigate. I was never one to be curious, as I firmly believed that curiosity did indeed kill the cat, and I simply loved cats and would never wish death upon one.

As I turned, a shocking sound erupted from behind. It was a high pitched clang, the sound of iron tapping against iron, and it echoed through the garage in a deadpan.

What's making that noise, I wonder. I faced the ambulance again, staring at its dented doors as the noise came from within. It was repetitive and irritating, nearly giving me a headache already.

"Hello...?" I whispered, denying any trace of fright, "Who's there? Answer me!"

_CLANG – CLANG – CLANG_

I received no answer, but at the sound of my voice the clanging became frantic and quick. As it hurried I reeled back in fright as the ambulance itself reacted to it, jerking at every speedy clang.

Finally the doors burst open, flinging the red substance it was coated with everywhere, most of it dotting the walls and completely missing me. A hospital gurney was thrown out of the van by nothing, nearly hitting me, which would have been painful. I wondered if I could feel pain...

I gasped loudly at the person on the gurney, though. Or rather, the body on the gurney, strapped tightly to the padded table, his eyes still opened widely, and a toothy grin plastered across his face.

It was me, my cold, dead body, right in front of my eyes... What is it doing here?... I... I look so happy.

I, the conscious one, lifted my hand shakily to touch my own dead face. I could clearly see the bright blue in my eyes, complimented by my rather large but, in my opinion, dashing eyebrows. The little freckles I had always hated dotted my pale cheeks still, giving me what I thought was a childish and ridiculous face.

My eyes... just about the one thing I liked about myself. Even now, they still shine a little...

I gripped my own jaw and turned my head slightly, which made an odd rattling sound when I did so. My slack mouth fell open and out fell a little silver key uselessly onto the padding of the gurney.

Why was there a key in his mouth- er, my mouth?...

… I'd better take it with me.

I grabbed the still wet key and gripped in firmly in my hands, giving myself one last pitying look as I turned around again. As I was staring at myself, I realized something. That cheerful smile I had somehow plastered on myself at my apparent moment of death; it was horribly fake. It was strained, and it looked horribly painful on my facial muscles, to be honest.

Not long ago, even a key would not open my mouth. Now, I find that there was one inside it.

ooo

I reached the shack once again, but stopped my trek when I noticed a white spotted doe sniffing at the ground in front of the door.

It only took one single step, though, and the quiet rustling of grass to make it look up, perking its ears as well. It turned its round eyes to me and sprinted away to where the field of wheat used to be. The field was gone and I was now completely engulfed in dense woods, the dirty wind burning my skin through the trees. I could still see the deer in the distance, though I figured I would risk following it later, in favor of checking the shack with this key I got from myself. What an odd concept.

Inside, I was met with a run down old place that smelled of mold. My heart thudded wildly in my chest upon entry, and that was when I realized that it was, in fact, still beating.

I couldn't help but wonder if I had even died to begin with.

I stood in place, clutching my chest for a time, waiting for my heart to slow. There was a large machine a few feet away, riddled with gears and plates of all shapes and sizes. I approached cautiously, brushing past a boarded up hole in the wall. An engraved plate was resting on the machine's front, its indentations read, "Too long a sacrifice can make a stone of the heart... Would it take another sacrifice to turn it back?" Maybe it was just being silly. This was just some old machinery, after all.

Strangely, there were absolutely no buttons or switches on the machine – nothing. I wondered how one might go about turning such a contraption on in the first place, as my heart still hammered repeatedly in my chest, the rising palpitations becoming a slight bother to my certainty. I sighed and left the run-down little abode, hoping to slow my worries and follow the deer for some peace and quiet. It ran away from me as I rounded the trees, somehow sensing me without even seeing me. I hurriedly ducked under branches, their leaves a mix of reds, yellows, and greens, all glowing with the orange evening light. The brambles on the ground abused my feet, but I ignored it in hopes of finding this fauna's destination in these thick woods. I felt that if I could follow the deer I might find a way out of this reverie, maybe to finally traverse to nothing, or perhaps waking up and given a second chance, not that I wanted the latter, though. The doe and I passed by a rusted old truck leaning against a thick tree, its hood ablaze with solar energy and dying heat.

She jumped into thick brush, though, and I lost sight of her graceful form somewhere along the line. As my back bumped into something, I whirled around and, yet again, gasped loudly at what I saw before me.

Again, I find my own dead body. This time I was hanging from a tree, that strained grin splitting my face in two again, though this time contorted in struggling as I was likely forced to squirm.

I saw my own shining eyes in the reflection of his looking down on me, and I was looking at myself as I came to a certain realization.

I should have been scared, but I just felt... empty.

Wait, what was that shiny on his neck? I think it was a key. I reached up and stood on my toes, but I could not reach my own bruised throat at this height, and there was nothing around to stand on despite the fact that we were in a heavily wooded area. I thought of untying the knot of the noose, which was tautly connected to the string tree trunk, but it would have taken me hours on end to do such a thing.

I sighed once again and turned around, but the woods seemed completely different from before. I couldn't remember this place... was I lost, I wonder?

As I pondered I was startled when a large crow cried, it flew into the air mere inches in front of my face, and I had to wonder how delirious I was to not notice the bird sooner. It cawed again from behind me, standing on a mossy branch and spreading its wings widely. It looked directly at me as it cawed, urging me to go back the way I came, back to my hanging self.

So I did, because what else would you do in such a situation? That lovely field of wheat was gone now, and I could no longer reach paradise, so I had to keep moving forward.

I covered my nose with my hand, gagging at the smell that now infested the area. Under the thick brush lay a burnt thing; a wrinkled old carcass, it looked like the deer. Its skin was now charcoal black, and a large knife was jabbed into its stomach, but there was no trace of blood anywhere. The body must have been burned profusely before it was stabbed. The ebony bird cried again, it cawed repeatedly, creating a sort of hearty laugh in this shady wood. Who's done this, I wonder? Is there anyone else here?

I eyed the knife handle jutting out of the dead animal's exposed belly, and an idea struck me. Perhaps if I were to take this knife, as disgusting and rusted as it was, maybe I could free my dead body from the noose nearby. Grimacing, I kept the rest of my body away as I extended an arm and gripped the metal handle, pulling it out of the body hurriedly, ignoring the sickening sound it made.

I looked up as I heard the crow flying away, watching its retreating form weave through the branches and brambles of the towering trees scattered about.

With a shuddered sigh, I hurriedly left the area where the dead deer rested. It was funny, really, I handled seeing my own dead body better than I had a nameless dead animal. It was probably the fact that the animals would be more fond of me than most humans, anyway.

I continued pondering as I stepped over the brambles back to the noose, crouching and extending the knife toward the base of the rope. It took a lot of my effort, as I was rather lanky and not very motivated, but eventually my body fell to the ground with a thud, the rope still loosely around his neck. He stared up at me with those bright blue eyes again, though his grin was now gone in favor of a restful expression. It makes me wonder how he managed to keep such a smile, despite not being able to even blink anymore, let alone be happy. Now I just looked like I was sleeping.

The shiny thing from earlier glinted in between the ropes, it must have been sealed between them and the choked skin of my neck, hiding it well. Picking it up revealed it to be yet another key, this one a dull bronze color that smelled strongly of dirty iron.

Throughout all of this, I felt that nothing could be achieved. I wondered what was happening and where I was, why I was not dead. The now strong orange light from the sky gave my head a dull pain, making the trees nothing but a black silhouette in the landscape.

I turned away and continued walking, not sure where I was going, but just wanting to move on already, anywhere but here. As I trekked, the air around me became thicker and denser. A smoky, hazy substance drifted around me, making it nearly impossible to see. What I could see was less than a foot away, making me stumble and bump trees, tripping over brambles and damaging my clothing.

I stopped short, startled, as I was suddenly face to face with a large, iron gate. The bars were crafted in an intricate design, their ends ending several curls, and these curls ending straight bars. I could not see beyond the gate for the life of me, but as I felt around and my hand came in contact with something mushy, I quickly decided to avoid the thing and just use the key already.

Drawing it from my pocket, I inserted it into the keyhole attached to the gate, turning it and unlocking the gate. It pushed open with a loud creak, waking several birds and causing them to fly away in this near silent forest. As it slid open I cautiously stepped forward.

Eventually, the fog cleared, and I saw another house. This abode in the woods seemed rather outdoorsy, it had a wreath hanging on the side, and was built in a sort of log cabin style. It was strange to see something so homey here, but my thoughts stopped short when I heard a quiet voice behind me.

"Welcome to my house, Arthur Kirkland..."

I took a sharp intake of breath and turned, finding the owner of the soft yet cold voice staring back at me. He eyed me emotionlessly with uncharacteristic lavender eyes, sort of giving a twisted, wry smile. He had blonde, wavy hair, tightly secured in a short pony tail with an odd protruding strand of hair, in a funny springy fashion.

"I've been waiting for you, Friend."

This person was tall and rather burly. He wore a red, plaid jacket, and it was completely zipped up. He had his hands in its pockets. Dark jeans adorned his legs, torn in several places here and there. He moved the large sunglasses from atop his head to cover his dull eyes, despite the poor lighting in the area.

I stared at him, shocked, and I'm quite certain I was trembling slightly.

"I knew you would turn up, and on such a nice day like this, too."

"Who... who are you?" I whispered, standing my ground pathetically. I know I wasn't exactly the most frightening gentleman, but I at least had the decency to not run away from another person because I was a little shaken.

"Ah..." he seemed to think a while, "I have a lot of names, and it's really hard to pick one."

He had a sort of soft voice, yet it somehow radiated an awfully threatening tone. He seemed like the type to hide his true colors, much like myself, in a way. Not that I was really hiding anything anymore.

He laughed hoarsely, "But I'm curious, Friend, who do _you_ think I am?"

"A... a person who lives in the woods?" Oh yes, great Arthur, you're so threatening.

This caused the man to laugh quietly, which to him was probably breaking into a fit of hysterics. He clutched his stomach as he did so, looking about to double over. I think he was taunting my stupidity, but I can't be too sure.

He wiped a tear from his eye, "Am I really, Arthur? Are you that naïve?" His polite tone was wearing away, clearing the path for a harsh sort of crumbly voice. This bloke sort of resembled a lumberjack who's been in the woods just a tad too long.

"Or maybe you're too stubborn to see what I really am?" he growled, "I've waited all this time for you, and you just disappoint me..."

"Y-you... You've wasted your time waiting for me, sir. I'm... not worth it. I'm not anybody anymore." I said, clenching my fists at my sides, "And you... To me, you're just a strange person, hanging around near some old house in the woods. And those roses you have there, what are they for, anyway?"

The strange man smiled slightly, "I'm going to put them on your coffin, Friend. After everyone is gone."

"I wouldn't bother," I said, clearly irritated, "I hate roses..." Finally deciding to get some answers, and since the man was being quiet, I asked, "What is this place?"

He sort of held a hand up in a presenting fashion, "This, you see, is my humble kingdom. And this here house, is my castle. I rarely invite people in. Just like you, I like my solitude." he paused, "But you... you're a special guest, and I'm going to make an exception."

I laughed a breathy laugh, "Me? Special?" I narrowed my eyes, "I can tell you now that there's nothing special about me, Lad."

"Oh now, don't bring yourself down, Arthur. Today, you're my guest of honor!"

"... What do you mean?"

"That depends on you, Friend." He moved to the porch of the quaint house in the woods, "Inside my house there are dark hallways that lead to places you don't want to see. But there... there is also something that will make you want to return to where you came from, and cherish every single little breath you take. I'm going to make you an offer, Arthur. It's a chance only an idiot would refuse."

I blinked, puzzled, "Erm, okay... An offer? What can you offer me?" According to what this person was saying, I really and truly had succeeded in killing myself. I thought this man was some sort of spiritual entity in the afterlife, but at the time, I could not be sure of anything in such an alternate reality.

He put his hand on the knob of the door, "Let's go inside. It's getting cold out here."

I'm not sure how it happened, but something compelled me to follow the strange person, to see what he had to offer, or who he was. Or... what he was.

He opened the door to the old place, stepping inside and walking ahead of me. I lingered in the doorway for a while, studying my surroundings. Several animal heads lined the wall, displayed on plaques. It was clear this man had a sort of passion for hunting, or animal heads, maybe, but that would be weird. There were various traps scattered around the tables, suggesting that he liked to assemble these contraptions as well. There was something out of place, though. A crooked painting on the wall depicted a large river flowing through a stormy land, the sun dimly illuminating the waters and currents. It had such a lonely shore...

I cautiously reached to fix it, until, "Please don't touch anything, Friend." was said lowly from the other room. I shuddered and followed after him.

"I wasn't going to." I grumbled childishly.

He just laughed, "You lied to the whole world, Arthur, and you lie to yourself."

Is he really here, I would often wonder. Maybe it was all just some sort of strange, drug induced dream. I had spiced up that cake pretty well, after all. I thought of how weird it was, though, that he talked as if I were dead, yet he said nothing of his story at all. He was a complete mystery, with absolutely no hints or clues to his identity or reason. And the way he acted was so cryptic, too. He seemed to have such an unstable personality, quiet and soft-spoken on moment, angry and threatening the next.

"Now we can talk properly, Friend." he said politely.

"I still have no idea who you are..." I grumbled, looking away.

He giggled, actually _giggled, _"I go by so many names. I've never paid much notice to what the living have called me, so... But there is one name that I favor the most, that I let the special cases like yourself use. Just call me Matthew."

"So..." I pieced two and two together, "Was that your name when you were, er, alive, then? Matthew?"

He just sighed, "I have never been alive. I just... I feed on what's dead and gone."

From that, all I really gathered was that he ate dead people, and in which case I probably should have ran out of there, but as I said, something kept me there. I'm rather certain it was a metaphor, anyway.

"Dead and gone." I laughed apathetically, "I suppose that would be me. Will I be punished, then, for taking my own life?"

"Most people would be, yeah, but not you, Friend. Because, I've been watching you. Long enough to understand exactly how you feel. I don't think you'll believe me, but I just feel so much sympathy for you." he grinned, "Who knows? I could be your only friend. Your only friend in the whole, wide world! So like I said, I'm going to make you an offer. I want to help you, is all. I'll just give you back your happiness in exchange for just a simple task, Friend. Your life will change completely. You will be yourself again. And soon, you'll even forget all this depression that's been eating away at you, day by day, for years on end."

Now this I wasn't too sure about. My only friend? Him? I'm pretty sure this man was bonkers! I let out a sort of joking laugh, "Is there anyone here but you for me to make friends with?" I looked around in emphasis.

Matthew let out that dry chuckle again, holding his tummy lightly. He looked up at me eventually, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face, "Why? I though you liked being alone?" He laughed loudly, startling me, "Isn't that why you ran away from life? From everyone?"

"Th-that doesn't matter-" he interrupted me.

"I was standing right behind you when you threw away all those photographs, you know, Friend? I patted your head every night when you cry yourself into a drug induced sleep. I saw _everything_, Arthur, even if you couldn't see me. I know who you are, what you want. But what you want is not here. It's gone, and it's never coming back."

My eyes widened and I narrowed them as those memories played themselves through my mind, for the millionth time. Honestly, I just wanted to get away from all of that, really and truly, that's all I wanted, all I wanted- okay, breathe.  
"What do you want me to do?" I sighed.

"Yeah, I probably have some explaining to do, huh." he adjusted his out of place sunglasses, "But where are my manners? We're still in the foyer. This is not a place for a serious talk." Matthew tauntingly turned away, sauntering into the next room as I just stared at his back. "I'll tell you everything you need to know, just in here!" he called.

I followed him into the next room reluctantly, that previous conversation making my mind whirl around in constant, obnoxious circles. The room was filled to the brim with candles, each one housing a single, flickering flame, yet never going out.

"Matthew, what's this, 'offer'?" I finally asked, rather bluntly, as well, "What can you fix, that life has destroyed?"

"Arthur, death won't fix anything. And though we are both dead, despite your most likely suspicions, I am not Death, or the Devil, or God. And I might seem just a strange, odd person to you, but I'm just as powerful as them. And yet, I chose you for this. I'll need you to go back and face five people. They are not ordinary people. They are very special, just like you, only in a slightly different way." Matthew paused, turning away for a moment.

"I'm just a failure, Matthew." I whispered, looking down, "Why would you choose me for anything? Aren't you afraid I'll just let you down, whatever I have to do? Most days..."I sighed, "Most days it's enough of a struggle to even crawl out of bed. I just don't see the point of anything anymore. I just wanted to disappear. And... And everyone else is actually happy! While I have to put on this awful smile for them, because they don't have to! Everywhere I turn, there are all of these happy people, filled with hope and will to live. Or even people so pitiful they make me ashamed to be alive. I don't want to be near those people. There is nobody out there to give someone like me company. I'm just alone. I only wanted to vanish, and I think you took that from me."

He turned to me again, looking me straight in the eyes behind those dark shades, "This is why I chose you, Friend. Like I said, I know how you feel, because I felt like that myself for a very long time. You and I are so alike. If you succeed, I can promise, you'll never feel like that again."

I just looked an him blankly, disbelieving, "Those five people. Who are they?"

Matthew suddenly glared at nothing, "The 'Parasites'." he growled, "That's what I call them. They don't know each other, but their destinies are bound together. You will have to keep your pretty little blue eyes open and constantly be on guard for them. These people will want to be closer to you. They might even pretend they're your friends. But don't let that fool you!" Matthew seemed angry now, angry at the Parasites, "They have nothing but horrible intentions. They'll only want to hurt you. They'll try to kill you, even. As harmless as they might appear, Parasites are the evil scum of this world."

He looked me straight in the eye as he said this, "And they all deserve to die!"

"Isn't my life bad enough without them?" I said pessimistically.

Matthew calmed, smiling wryly, smugly again, "Don't be afraid. You will have a great advantage over them. They don't know that you know. Do you understand what that means? You will become my hunter on Earth, serving punishment for their sins. A tool of mine. A, hah, a dark angel walking through a river of blood, mind the cliche. You'll find your purpose in life when you see for the first time how satisfying it is."

Now, now I was just confused and puzzled. I still had only a small inkling of what my task was, and no idea as to whether it would be worth it at all. "But... How will I recognize them?"

"There is not a great deal of people in your lonely life, right Arthur? You'll just know them when you see them, really." he sneered, "Bring those deceitful bastards in front of me and we'll make them regret for everything they've done."

So... so he wanted me to kill them? These so called Parasites? I couldn't, I can't kill a person. I can't do that. I can't even hold a proper confrontation anymore without breaking down and screaming, let alone kill someone.  
"Are you expecting me to kill them, Matthew?" I breathed shakily, clenching my fists pathetically.

"Oh, no, no, heavens no, Friend. I'm just expecting you to defend yourself, to fight for your own survival. To do everything you can to stay alive, because believe me, you are going to be desperate. I know you're not a murderer. Quite the opposite, really, you're such a good, sweet person. I also know that you're so good, you can't handle suffering very well. And these people will want to make you do just that, to suffer. They will want to cause you pain. They won't even hesitate. In the end, you might not have a choice but to kill them." he paused, "Think of it as gardening – if they were weeds amongst the flowers, you'd pull them out, right? You'd get rid of them without thinking twice about it."

I laughed mirthlessly, "I'm not really a gardening type, but I see your point."

"I'm glad of that." he smiled kindly, and for once, genuinely, "And remember this, Friend, you aren't their only victim. If you don't stop them, their killing will continue, and innocent people will die. You have the opportunity to make the difference, and a chance to save yourself."

"You picked the wrong person, though. I can't do that. It's too much for... for someone like me. Dealing with criminals is a job for the police, not me!" I took a step forward, hoping to convince Matthew to let me go already, just let me die, but I can't even have that.

"Yeah, you're pretty weak. That's why I've prepared a special present for you." again with the childish giggling, "Immortality. You can never die again, Arthur. You will always return to life, no matter what happens to you."

"Wh-wha – That's... That's the last thing I wanted!" I yelled, then bowed my head sadly, "Please, can't you just let me die?"

"The decision has been made. As long as _they_ are alive, you cannot die. And they are always, always out there, wreaking havoc."

"It's blackmail," I whimpered, "you can't do that."

"I'm doing it for your own good." a frustrated breath erupted from him, "A-anyway, you are in no position to argue with me. You will either go and do what you have to do," Matthew's tone rose, "or suffer for eternity and never find peace."

Now, I'm a stubborn person. Just because I wasn't one for arguments or confrontations didn't mean I would do something that would make me unhappy. It was childish, really, a difficult trait of mine. "This all must be a dream, and I'm just collapsed on the floor. I don't believe you."

"Arthur." he sounded stern yet quietly patient, and moved a little, revealing a door that I don't believe was there before, "See this door here?" an awkward pause, "Let's go inside."

He opened the door and turned to me, holding out his arm in a silent gesture for me to follow. I did, as I really and truly didn't have much of a choice.

Again, the wheat straws tickled me in a blissful way. It was the same wheat field as before, and they waved at me, in a welcoming gesture. This, I think, was paradise. I could stay here forever, but alas, Matthew had followed me here and stood in front of me, blocking my view and the warmth of the happy sun.

"I want to show you something that will help you make up your mind. Follow me."

Matthew walked backward for a moment, still facing me, and finally turned, walking to some unknown space of this lovely field. His feet crushed a few straws, and I silently berated him for being so careless of such beauty. Begrudgingly, I followed him for a while, the walk was silent. Eventually I could see something in the distance. It was large, no, there were many. Many large, peculiar shaped objects jutting out from the wheat straws. We came closer and closer to them, and I carefully avoided stepping on anything but dirt. Then, I could see what they were. Guillotines. A ways away from the woods, in this field of wheat, there was a museum of guillotines. Matthew said nothing as we approached a certain one, and as he stopped, he kicked the basket just inches from the bloody and rusted blade. I was beginning to feel delirious here, as if something about the area covered my mind with a thin yet strong film. For some, odd, strange reason, I remembered something.

I thought of the layout of my flat. The room that used to be something so, so precious, but was now nothing but a storage closet. The red curtains swaying near the open window, the lace lampshade next to it, lighting up the room dimly. I can't explain why I thought of this room at such a time, but I did. Something about this place made me dizzy, it made me want to collapse and cry.

While I was distracted, Matthew picked up the basket he had recently kicked, and held it to me, grinning maliciously. "Yes. It's you, Friend. Say hello."

Unsure of what he was talking about, I peered hazily into the basket and my eyes widened as they met those blue irises again. My own head was in the blood soaked basket, staring up at me in terror.

I covered my mouth and looked away, backing away and accidentally crushing a few wheat straws. "I don't want to look at it." I whispered, "Haven't I seen enough of it yet? That body in the ambulance, then the forest... but this place..." I recalled the bedroom, and suddenly exclaimed, "This is exactly what I was trying to get away from! I _don't _want to be _here_! Just make it go away!" Well, wasn't that out of character.

He set the basket on the ground again, and I noticed something. Perched atop the guillotine, was that same crow from earlier. The one that showed me the deer. It stared at me silently, always watching me, and not Matthew.

"I assumed it would be a good idea to give you a taste of the suffering you would endure." said Matthew, "I want you to understand that you can keep going long after you can't."

I grit my teeth and glared at him, as the memories of that room kept invading, almost becoming a real image in front of my eyes, as if we were really there. But we weren't. This was that field of wheat, and the sun was gone now. Now I hated it. I glared at the smug little bastard and approached him, but as I did so, my foot brushed against something. I looked down to see a crowbar, and I instantly picked it up. Just because these things happened to be useful. Don't get the wrong idea and think I was actually planning on _killing_ Matthew, no of course not. I picked it up and held it closely by my side, and he didn't even flinch.

"It's time to make a decision, Friend."

I gasped at the thunder roared suddenly, and all of my memories came flashing all at once. All of them, they kept reeling, yet I was still conscious with Matthew, as they were only in my head.

"The Parasites are coming whether you like it or not. You don't even have a choice, really. You have to stand up for yourself."

I remembered the crowds I used to be comfortable with, the blinking, green eyes under untrimmed yet neat eyebrows staring at me happily. The shattered windows of that place. I narrowed my eyes at his blurry form, and said, no, _growled, _"I don't take orders from people like you. I'll do it my way."

This seemed to anger Matthew, as his eyes widened and he finally seemed to break, "Don't you understand that _there is no other way_?!" he yelled, glaring lavender daggers my direction.

"I don't know that, now do I?" I took a brave step forward with the bar, steeling myself, "Besides, you could be lying to me. How do I know you aren't? I'm not a murderer, and I don't want to be." Thinking back, that was probably pretty ironic, with the crowbar and all. Nevertheless, I ground out, "I'll find another way without you."

Matthew seemed stupefied, and shocked that I said this. "What?!"

I sighed, "Look, I appreciate you giving me another chance, Lad, don't get me wrong. I can see now that I've made a mistake and I'm ready to try and fix my life. But I really, really don't like what you're saying." _The green eyes, the room, the window, the crowds... _"If there's one thing I learned in life it's that people let you down all the time. If I don't rely on myself, I can't rely on anyone else, let alone you-"

"_You idiot,_" he hissed, the thunder chiming in at just the right moment, "_You goddamn arrogant fool!_ _You have no idea..._ _No idea what you just did._" He stopped his short rant and huffed, looking at me with wide, angry, frightening eyes, "But, fine! Have it your way!" Matthew smiled a twisted smile in my direction, "In the end, I'll be the one laughing at you! I _always_ am."

I laughed mirthlessly, choosing to poke the fire, "Yeah, don't laugh too hard, Boy. You might break something."

Matthew was unamused, and he glared at me through his cracked smile, "When we meet again, you will beg me on your knees to give you a second chance."  
"I don't really believe in second chances, so I might have to disappoint you again. Look, this is all just a dream, I know it, and I want to wake up already."

His smile widened a little at those words, and he was gone.

ooo

I opened my eyes and found myself back in Matthew's house. I was in the room with all of the candles again, the door still there, though now it was closed and locked. There was no sign of the smug man anywhere.

All right, I'd be fine, I didn't need his help with whatever all this was. I'm sure I'll just figure it out, and wake up. Forget all this and go home, maybe have a nice cup of tea.

I gasped lightly as I came in contact with a candle flame, flinching away. I grumbled to myself and stared at it a moment, before leaning down and blowing it out.

Like that... the _room_ from before, a memory made itself known in my mind as the flame disappeared.

I saw a man. He stood in a dark kitchen, the windows boarded up, and I couldn't see his face. The man was on top of a chair, and something was hanging from the ceiling. He spoke quietly, "They left me no choice, Emill... Maybe one day, you will forgive me." The man kicked the chair out from beneath him, and made strangled noises as his breath left him, He squirmed and swung, he fought for life, but it was to no avail. After a long term of agonizing struggles and broken gasps, he went limp, and just swung there, in the middle of his kitchen.

I breathed heavily, with wide eyes. Why was this person's memory in my mind, now? I put my hand over my racing heart, trying to calm its erratic beating. Eventually I calmed myself enough, and put that in the back of my mind, turning and wanting nothing more than to leave this house.

As I left through the front door, I found myself staring face to face with a burned and dead deer.

"What the...?" I said aloud, "How did I get back here?" I turned to find the Matthew's house completely gone from behind me, now replaced with thick woods and trees. I blinked, confused, as I felt the crowbar in my hand. I passed my body again, choosing not to look at it, passing a ruined car smashed into a tree. The sun's heat reflected off the hood. As I walked, the trees became thinner and thinner, and eventually I was out of the woods. The sky was a clear blue now, and there was not a straw of wheat in sight.

I faced the shack from before, the one with the odd and seemingly antique machine inside. I remembered brushing against some planks hiding something in the wall, and I felt the crowbar in my head. Nodding to myself and thinking, hey, why not, I entered the shack again. I entered, facing the machine again, and found the planks innocently nailed to the wall. I crouched by them and began forcing the metal bar under them, and pushing them, pulling them toward myself. The rusted nails protested, but eventually broke free from the wall, and I was showered in splinters and wood. Sighing, I peered into the hole the planks were hiding. I could see something that faintly resembled a switch on the inside, and I turned to the machine. I figured this would be the on/off switch, and well, I was curious.

Placing the crowbar in the ground, I stupidly reached my entire arm inside the hole, as it was rather narrow and deep. I felt around for the switch, and as my fingers brushed it, I had to go shoulder deep in order to push it.

There was a moment of silence as nothing happened, but suddenly, I screamed. I screamed as such an agonizing pain overtook my body, ripping though my nerves and sending awful signals of pain to my brain. The ripping, agonizing pain came from my shoulder, and I looked to see that there was no longer a hole, no longer an entrance into the wall, just a square of metal where it once was. Then I had realized, my arm was in there. A blade had activated when I pressed the switch, and sliced clean through me, bone and all. I screamed again, gripping the bloody area and moving away from that spot. I paced around, panting and whimpering at the horrible, awful pain. The door was closed and locked now, and I was stuck in this little shack. My blood poured from the wound, creating an unmistakeable trail on the floor of the little building. I looked up through squinted eyes to find that my blood must have splattered all over the machine as it happened, and the machine was now slowly, yet surely, whirring to life. Its fuel was my blood. It creaked and groaned, and I stared at it, mesmerized. The red stained gears turned, and turned their neighbors. Small little axis bars worked, pumps moved up and down, and smoke came from the exertion of all these parts. The entire room smelled of iron, be it from by pooling blood or the machine, and I screamed again as another wave of agony coursed through my body.

The machine opened a passage in the wall of the shack, and I walked to it, panting loudly, looking for some sort of relief to this pain; anything. It led me to a brick hallway, and some of the bricks were missing, giving the odd view of being in a car with everything streaming past you all at once.

I kept walking, and the corridor began to spin as I was becoming dizzy from blood loss. I gazed back at the continuous stripe of blood I had left, and the puddle forming below me because I had stopped moving. My eyes became half-lidded and I saw a light. The pain began to fade, and I was forced to collapse into the pool of red ink beneath me. I lied down in it, without much choice, as I could no longer see anything but white. My hair and the side of my face became soaked, but I didn't care, as the pain finally became a dull thud, and vanished. I didn't care anymore, as everything faded from white, to black.

_The moth, the trees, the graveyard, the green eyes, that room... my cats..._

**AN: I remembered the second AN, whoop!**

… **Yeeep.**

**Oh, and yes, smug, burly Canada. I didn't want to make him the 2p Canada who wrestles bull moose, just a smug little bastard who towers above people and smells like a bull moose. Oh and he likes the word friend.**

**Also, the stuff about the room and that, yeah, you're not going to get all that until waaay later, and Alfie comes in later too. Sorry.**

**I want some sesame snaps.**

**Now I'm just going to go giggle maniacally.**

**I _do not_ own Hetalia, 2p!Hetalia, or The Cat Lady.**

**Daifuku out.**


	3. Second First Breath

**AN: Well here we are again.**

**This time with the hospital arc. Or Doctor X. In this case Dr. Francis. I'm sorry France, I'm too brutal to you. **

**Chaos unfolds.**

**I do not own The Cat Lady or Hetalia, nor any other fandom I write fanfiction of.**

**This story is going to get a lot more intense pretty soon here.**

**Just a warning that yes, there are time skips, and yes, it is very jumpy. That's just how it works. Like, it starts out with Francis, and that's a look into the future of this arc. Then it goes to Arthur waking up which happens directly after where the last chapter ended. Just read and it will become clear in due time.**

**The scenes with Francis at the beginning are kind of a look into the future, while the parts wandering the hospital are present time.**

**SECOND FIRST BREATH**

**o**

"Oui. I do enjoy fine art, thank you for noticing."

The Frenchman blew a puff of smoke into the air, having recently taken a breath of fresh cigarette. That was probably against the rules in such a place, not that he minded much, and nobody had complained or bothered.

"There is a certain raw beauty to it that modern painters often fail to recreate, you see."

He leaned forward onto his desk, stubbing out the cigarette into his ashtray and eying the flat surface curiously.

"I always wanted to be an artist myself, but it will be a long time before I can call myself that."

He narrowed his gray-purple eyes.

"I often consider that my patients are my canvas. But my job is more about restoration, obviously. I look at the damaged human minds and bring them back to their former beauty."

Doctor Bonnefoy blinked tiredly, examining the many restored paintings lining the walls of his office, until he turned to me again.

"I'm sorry, I'm probably boring you."

"No, it's not that. It's just..." I looked down at the ashtray for something to concentrate on. I watched the steady smoke rise from the recently extinguished bud. Then, I laughed mirthlessly. "It's been a difficult couple of days, sir. I really just want to go home."

"Of course you do," smiled the Frenchman, "and go home you will! -As soon as we have done this little assessment, okay? You probably know how it works. I have read your file. You used to be a nurse?"

"Yes, I know very well how it works." I paused for humor, "You want to check if I'm nuts."  
"Well." Francis blinked, sitting up again. "I wouldn't use that expression, obviously. But yes, we have to make sure you are safe and figure out how to help you, Mr. Kirkland. Also, as a former nurse yourself, you know there is always paperwork involved. These forms will not fill themselves. Honestly, mom cher, you have nothing to worry about. This is just a formality. I can tell straight away that you are not 'nuts'."

I only sighed, gazing out the window next to the French therapist's desk. My eyes transfixed to the gloomy weather I was so used to, my blue eyes not matching the sky at all.

"Of course, sir. What would you like to know? I'll answer your questions, go home, take a long shower, and catch up on some much needed sleep."

"Wonderful. Let us see, then, where shall we begin?"

o

I awoke to the nauseating smell of disinfectants and medicines, scrunching up my nose in distaste at this stench I was so used to from my past. I had yet to open my eyes, because I knew that I would immediately close them afterward at the certainly bright lights of the hospital room I could detect through my eyelids.

Then, it hit me.

Why was I in a hospital?

The last I remembered was that field of wheat, that strange man with the house in the woods, and then that shack, and –

My eyes jolted open upon realization, and I quickly turned my head to my right, checking if I still had all of my limbs. I ignored the dizziness this brought me, desperately checking to see that I was not broken anywhere, but I could not see myself under the thin hospital sheets. It seemed I could not move very well, either. I breathed into the oxygen mask strapped to my face, staring up at the ceiling with a million questions.

How did I get here, being the main one.

After a moment, the door to my room opened, and in walked a nurse. I turned my eyes to him quickly, and he made a little startled sound, apparently alarmed that I was already awake.

He had shiny, cropped raven black hair, it was cut rather unevenly, however. His red eyes made me think that he could stare right through me, they made me think that he had secretly known everything, but was not about to spill his own secrets let alone mine to the world.

The nurse snapped out of his shocked state quickly, looking back outside the door and gesturing wildly to someone or something. "Doctor, he is awake." was said repeatedly.

Another man walked into my room hurriedly, standing at my bedside and studying me.

"Good evening." he had the average English accent, unlike the pale nurse. "It's good to see you're awake at last. You're in Cedar Lake Hospital. My name is Andrew, and I'm one of the doctors. Would you confirm you name for me, please?"

The doctor removed the oxygen mask from my face, giving me the new ability to speak.

"Arthur Kirkland." I stated simply.

"Hello, Mr. Kirkland. I'm glad to see you're all right. You're on the ward now. Your condition is stable. I can see your brain functions just fine and there is no permanent damage of any sort. We've checked your internal organs and they are fine too. You are a very lucky man, Arthur. You may experience extreme tiredness and lethargy for a couple of days but that should soon pass. I would advise plenty of rest now. The nurses on this ward will take it from here. Please let them know if you need anything at all. Take care, Mr. Kirkland."

I opened my mouth to say something else, but the doctor quickly interrupted me.

"Please, don't try to speak."

I did anyway, and I'm quite positive I looked absolutely horrified. I remember feeling the wideness in my eyes and the pain and exhaustion everywhere, but over all of that I still felt extreme panic.

I whispered hoarse words.

The doctor sighed, realizing he wouldn't win this battle. He leaned in close to me, attempting to hear what I had said.

"What did you say?"

I whispered again.

Dr. Andrew looked perplexed and he stood straight again, looking at me confusedly. "Don't worry, Mr. Kirkland. Your arm is perfectly fine."

I think I began to whisper something else, but I can't remember too clearly.

"No, no, no, there was nothing wrong with your arm at all. Now please calm down."

I had finally silenced, and with that the doctor had taken his leave from the room, only leaving the ebony-haired nurse in his wake.

"Would you like me to get you some water?" he said kindly, not letting me answer, "Let me get you a drink. I will be back in a second." The nurse took his leave as well, turning and glancing at the wall clock on his way out.

It ticked, and ticked, and ticked as I was all alone. The silence of the room was deafening until the kind nurse returned with a glass of water.

I opened my eyes again, not realizing that I had closed them.

"Ah, I am very sorry, Arthur-san. Did I wake you? I have to take your blood pressure after this. It will only last two seconds, then I will leave you to yourself again, all right?" he gathered some equipment, then paused to look my way again, "My name is Kiku, by the way. Kiku Honda, or Honda Kiku."

I could now tell the origin of Kiku's accent, placing it as Japanese as he continued fiddling with his equipment, coming up with something that I assumed was to take my blood pressure.

He wrapped it around my arm, the one I could have sworn I had lost, and apologized immediately as I winced at the pressure.

"I am sorry, I know that this is not very nice. I hate waking people just for this, but being such a bother is part of my job, unfortunately." Kiku smiled at me again, his pooling red eyes seeming to glitter kindly. "I really dislike this hospital." His smile turned into a frown as he said it.

This nurse was certainly talkative. He had a warm air about him, yet somehow he had still managed to remain completely polite with such a friendly demeanor.

"Er, Arthur-san... do you mind if I call you that? So, I probably should not be saying this, but I am going to anyway." he took a deep breath, "And I know you have heard it already, but Arthur-san, you are very, very lucky. You – um, well, you did what you did, and then he – well – he just walking in and finding you, that was honestly a chance in a million."

I didn't understand s single word of what that meant.

He laughed a little, "I am probably not making any sense, right?"

Okay, good, he was going to clarify.

"I am just so tired. They are working us so hard here, it is like modern day slavery."

Or not.

He pulled up a fist of determination, weak determination, but still. "One day I will tell them what I really think. I will."

The machine squeezing my arm tightly made a buzzing sound, probably signaling that he was done. Kiku made a small noise of acknowledgment, undoing the Velcro and removing the device from me.

"You have the blood pressure of a healthy young adult, Arthur-san. Just wanted to repeat how lucky you are." he looked solemn for a moment, "And I sincerely hope, that, um, you have... changed your mind about some things. I have to go, but I will see you later. Take care."

The friendly Japanese man bowed shortly, and swiftly left the room, most likely on his way to check on another poor, unfortunate patient.

I watched the ceiling fade away for an uncountable time that day, as I fell into another fit of dreadfully alert sleep.

O

As the sleep was beginning to grow peaceful, finally, my eyes were forced open by something in the room. I could not tell what it was at all. There seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary as I silently yet fearfully examined the room. It was all gray and white, the same as I had left it as. There was a moment of tense silence. I trembled, as something was convulsing chills down my spine ruthlessly.

I gasped suddenly when the lamp above me began to rock back and forth steadily. It blinked to life, and I had then realized just how heated it was.

It was as if it were spraying flames in my direction; it was a very, very hot light.

Its weak rocking turned into feverish swinging, creaking as it moved.

It quickly turned toward me, shining its horrid burning light directly at my face, and I did not have the energy to scream as I felt that it burned me horribly.

I could practically feel my own skin melting, and it was excruciating. My vision soon disappeared as a horrible stinging enveloped my eyes, leaving me nothing but pain and burning.

I thought it would all end once again.

Then I opened my eyes with a loud gasp, running away from the nightmare. I wanted to get out of this hospital. Now.

The clock ticked mechanically as time passed.

It felt like days to me, but perhaps it was only minutes.

Kiku had come into my room again, and he went into another one-sided conversation. He had sat himself on the side of my bed, focusing up at the ceiling above us in thought.

I must have looked simply awful, as one look at me made him ask, "Bad dream?"

"Y-yes..." I whimpered and whispered, finally finding my voice, "A very, very bad one."

"I knew it. I could sense it the moment I came in here that you were having a nightmare." Kiku paused before asking quietly, "What was it about?"

"I was... I was burnt alive."

Kiku's red eyes alighted oddly at that. "That actually reminds me of something that happened recently. There was a woman in the emergency unit, and she really wanted to smoke. But they would not let her, of course, this is a hospital after all. She was not well at all. Not just injured, but not well in the head. She was on ten liters of oxygen. Through a face mask. She was told that she had to stay in bed. But of course, she did not listen. As soon as they left she would smoke. The _entire room_ went up in flames, and so did she!"

I gazed at his unreadable expression from my constant perch on the hospital bed, not saying anything to that.

"Er, I suppose you did not want to hear that, Arthur-san. I apologize for my big mouth." Kiku smiled apologetically, and I simply nodded.

After a large bout of awkward silence, I had regained my voice a bit more.  
"What happened to me?" I said quietly.

Kiku blinked, looking my was startled. "You do not... remember it? Do you remember anything?"

"Well..." I swallowed, nervous, "I... I took some drugs... and I fell asleep... I remember the room spinning around me, so slowly. I felt so calm... then, well..." I paused, contemplating telling Kiku my, well, my out of body experience. I had decided that the Japanese man was trustworthy, after all, he did radiate an aura of friendliness. To me at least.

"... All of a sudden," I continued, "I was in a field of wheat. It was great, at first. I truly felt happy. It was like I was free... But then it got worse. There was this tunnel, or maybe it was a garage. There was no light at the end of it. Just pitch black. Then, then I... I got lost in the woods. I saw my dead body hanging on a tree. Burning cars... There was this crow that followed me around, too, and the deer... I always heard something behind the trees, but I never dared to look. Then I found the house. The man who lived there, I think... Kiku, I think he was Death, or, or maybe the devil? I don't know... He said to call him Matthew. He said I should go back. Gave me another chance. And, well..." I smiled sadly, looking into his bewildered red eyes, "Here I am."

I giggled a bit, pushing away a mental breakdown, "Such a weird dream, right?"

Kiku blinked a few times, staring at me with a concerned look on his face.

"Maybe it was not a dream, Arthur-san. I strongly believe in those sorts of things. It is not impossible."

"Well, it certainly felt real." I answered, "But it must have been a dream."

I wanted to change the subject.

"Kiku, can you tell me who found me and what happened?"

"Well, your body went into a coma. You were lucky he came to your house early and found you, I told you that before. A little vaguely, but I told you."

Wait, someone had come into my flat? … _How?_

"Wha... who found me?"

"Your son, Arthur-san. He called an ambulance. If it was not for him, you would surely be dead now."

That didn't even make sense. I was certain that I did not have a son. Or... or at least, well, that was in the past. I did not have a son and that was that. Trust me when I say those words.

"My... son?" I questioned.

"Yes. Why? Why do you look so pale all of a sudden?"

I honestly and truly did not have a son. I really, truly, did not.

"Arthur-san?"

I breathed inward, steeling myself.

"I don't have a son." I raised my voice, "Whoever he is, he lied."

"But..." Kiku puzzled, "why would he do that?"

"I know as much as you do. I've been in a coma."

"So he lied. That does not change the fact that you owe this person your life." said Kiku wisely.

"I was perfectly fine," I grumbled, "I didn't need his help, whoever he was."

The Japanese nurse seemed slightly offended at my rude grumblings and turned away slightly, stature becoming tight.

"I'm sorry." I said honestly, not wanting to lose the entirety of my companionship in this hospital. Again, I needed to change the subject.

"How long have I been here?" I inquired quietly.

"I was told that you had arrived at seven in the evening. You had a cardiac arrest in the ambulance. They had to resuscitate you. In fact, your heart had stopped beating for more than a minute. But they managed to bring you back." the Japanese nurse paused in thought, turning his scarlet irises to the floor.

"You went to the intensive care unit where they gave you a dose of antidote and pumped your stomach. As soon as your condition was stable they brought you to this ward. I... um..." Kiku scratched his head nervously, looking away sheepishly, "I call it that 'die ward', because... all patients who come here want to die. It is a suicide watch unit. That is why it is so strict. You must be careful, nurses here are very trigger happy with the sedatives."

I could sense that Kiku was trying to warn me of something, I swear it, but I couldn't for the life of me tell what.

"When will they let me go home?" I asked softly.

"I am not sure." he replied, "Not today, I doubt it will be today. Perhaps tomorrow?"

I furrowed my brows as Kiku sighed heavily and hid his head in his hands, leaning down.  
"I should really warn you about something, Arthur-san. You seem like a very nice person. There is a doctor here. Doctor Bonnefoy. He is the chief of psychiatry in this hospital. You will not be able to go home until he has talked to you. And he... well, he is going to get deep inside of your head. Do you understand?"

I nodded mutely, hearing my hair brush against the pillow.

"He will ask you some very difficult questions. Oh, but, he is a very kind man. You can trust him." Kiku said that last part a little differently than the rest, laughing under his breath slightly as he glanced around the room.

I nodded again. The nurse had stopped talking, but I felt that I still did not know enough. Oddly enough, he did not seem too keen to leaving any time soon.

"Did you..." I began, "Did you see this son of mine?"

"No, I apologize. He had apparently come in the ambulance with you. But then, he remembered something and insisted that he needed to leave. Someone mentioned that he was in quite a hurry."

"Of course he was." I said dryly, "He was worried I'd ask him what he was doing in my flat."

Kiku turned to me again, his red eyes studying my sour expression.

"Saving your life?" he supplied.

I sighed, "Do I really have to give him the benefit of the doubt just because of that?"

"Well, one would assume so, yes. He was a hero to you. Maybe the real heroes always leave before their identity is revealed?" He chuckled softly into his hand.

"_Or_, he was a burglar, attempting to steal from me?" I lifted my arm weakly, the one I could have sworn I had lost, and bent it a little to work the muscles. No use becoming an invalid.

"Hmm... That is a possibility too. Do you have anything precious in your apartment?"

I rested the arm again, focusing on the ceiling dully. "Maybe." was my muttered reply.

Kiku let out a dry sound of acknowledgment, resting his chin on his hands and his arms on his knees as he sat and gazed at the wall in thought.

"So, tell me about this Doctor Bonnefoy."

"Oh, his name is Francis Bonnefoy, but you should just call him by his last name. He comes to this ward often, usually late in the afternoon or evening. I personally am very fond of him, but you hear all sorts of stories about a person in a place like this. I do not know what to think anymore. What I do know is that he is very friendly and supportive, if not a little distanced from you. It is a good thing, because some doctors will not even greet you here. But Dr. Bonnefoy usually stops and asks me how I am, albeit coldly, but I can tell that he really cares. He knows that I have some, er... well, some problems. He can see them. He had actually offered me free weekly sessions. I think that I might take him up on that offer."

He smiled wryly.

I had wondered just what kind of problems Kiku could have. I could see that there was something off about him in his eyes. They radiated kindness and patience. Too much kindness and patience.

"What are they saying about him? These things you hear?" I wondered aloud.

"Oh, of course. They say that he is a big flirt. Nurses, cleaners, patients – some of them even male. He does not care as long as, well, as long as you are living and breathing. There was even a girl I knew who fell for it. It was not the smartest thing of her to do. And then, she just sort of left somewhere, and I never saw her again. I wonder why that is. I just do not understand how these things work. I think that Francis will be more careful now with what he is doing after that outbreak of rumors. But I cannot really say bad things about him, personally. Well..." the Japanese man grinned mischievously, "one thing maybe. Do you promise to not laugh?"

I nodded for the third time, sitting up a little using my now propped up pillow.

"He smells a little strange."

Despite my promise not to laugh, I did guffaw a little. "I'm sorry?"

"He smells... funny. I don't know, maybe it's just bad aftershave? Or something he eats? He always smells like, well, old cheese. It is a sort of rotten smell."

"Oh, well, uh, thank you for the warning, I suppose. I'll try not to get too close to him."

"Now that I think about it, there is another thing, too." he appeared pensive. "I will tell you this, Arthur-san. He will start talking to you, and something will just make you open up and tell him everything. It is very strange. I do not have anything to hide, but he had somehow gotten some very private things out of me. Very, very private things. Things I would not even tell my mother. And we have not even started those sessions yet. So be prepared for that."

I yawned, "Of course, but it's a tad too late for me to hide how I feel anyhow. I do think I made that very clear when I had ingested those drugs."

There was a pregnant silence after that. Kiku had most likely chosen not to comment on my most recent words, and to be frank, I did not mind that. But I would not have minded if he had badgered either.

I looked at Kiku. The way he sat on the edge of my hospital bed seemed very isolated. His neat hair was ruffled slightly, most likely from the labors of a work day at a hospital full of suffering people and lunatics. His red eyes were downcast, as they always were. Every time I looked at the nurse he was studying something with such a far off look in those red irises. I had just now noticed the shadows lining the skin under his eyes, the way they told a tale of stress and tiresome duty that no one ever acknowledged.

Then something had occurred to me.

"Tell me something more about yourself." I made sure to smile kindly as I said it, and he turned to me with a bewildered look on his face, as if that was the last thing he had expected to hear.

"Me?..." he smiled back at me happily, "Oh, I am nobody. Just a nurse. We all must pay our bills somehow, right? I do rent a room not far from here. There are other people living in that house as well. One is an auxiliary nurse like me, though he is always sick. I think that the other one is, ah, a stripper. I cannot be too certain of that. She is just never home at night. It is very kind of you to ask me that, Arthur-san."

I folded my hands in my lap politely on the bedsheets.

"Maybe she works at night, just as you do?"

"Perhaps. But I do not leave for work wearing red stockings and heels."

I chuckled a little, looking to my left to the window in my assigned room. I could tell that it was raining even if the curtains were closed, like a sixth sense of mine. "You're probably right, then, if she leaves like that."

"Oh, and I used to have a girlfriend, too. I could tell that she did not like me much. In fact, she broke up with me last Valentine's Day after I had worked so hard to get her a nice gift. I do not know what I was thinking. She had never told me her reasons why, but I do not care anymore."

I nodded for probably the hundredth time, this one in understanding. Another silence engulfed the room for a while, and I began to feel my eyes grow heavy.

I yawned and put my pillow back down again, leaving my propped up position. "I'm tired." I murmured, "May I sleep now?"

"Of course. I will see you again, then." he stood, moving to the door, but abruptly stopped and glanced to me over his shoulder. He offered me a serious glance I was not expecting.

"Be careful who you trust here, Arthur-san. They will be watching you." he whispered, red eyes narrowed and glinting at me.

I blinked.

"How... how do I know you're not one of 'them'?"

Kiku merely turned from me again, approaching the door to my room and turning the knob. I'm not sure if he meant for me to hear it, but I'm certain I heard him say this very quietly.

"You don't, Arthur-san. But do I really seem that bad of a person to you?"

I did not know how to answer that. He seemed kind. He really did, and I felt that I could actually consider him my friend. But I hadn't had a friend in years. Perhaps it was only wishful thinking.

"Remember what I said. Dreams are only dreams. But when they turn into nightmares, it is good to have someone there to pinch your arm and wake you, right? I will see you soon, Arthur-san."

o

"Is it okay if we start with a talk about your childhood, mon cher?"

Dr. Bonnefoy did not let me answer as he shuffled his many documents, then looked me dead in the eye.

"I want you to be as honest as you can. It is important if we want to get to the bottom of your problem. Count to ten and tell me when you are ready, Arthur."

I mentally counted to ten, staring down at my lap as I did so. When I finished, I looked up at him in confirmation, and he nodded.

"This is not about whether you are 'nuts' or not, like we said before. It is about finding what has caused how you are feeling now and creating a working solution."

I sniffed quietly, not signaling to him what I was doing. Kiku was right. He does smell like rotting cheese and something else I couldn't place.

"In order to achieve that, I need to get to know you better, Arthur. Can we talk about your childhood first? Your parents. When you are a child your life revolves around them. What was your father like? Did you have a good relationship with him?"

I thought about my answer carefully, remembering Kiku's warning not to trust anyone here. I considered it a bit ironic, though, because I had a hard time trusting the Japanese man himself.

"I was brought up without a father." I said dismissively.

"I understand. He was not there when you were growing up." Francis smiled at me sympathetically. I didn't want his sympathy, but I said nothing. "Can you tell me why he was not there? What happened to him?"

"He..." I contemplated my choices again. I could flat out lie, or I could tell the truth. I glared into the eyes of Dr. Bonnefoy. They were a dull purple, almost black. He wore a shirt that was partially open to display his chest in an obviously sensual way, and the pale color of his visible chest hair disgusted me almost as much as his overgrown chin stubble. His hair was to his shoulders, and it was all a very pale blonde, bordering on gray if your sight was diminished. He smelled of cigarette smoke and rot. When Kiku had warned me that he somehow makes you spill all of your secrets, I certainly believed him, for Francis seemed as sly as a fox under all of that indifference. I did not like this man one bit. Something about him just triggered a red flag in me.

So I took the lying route with a friendly smile plastered on my face.

"He left when I was little. One night, he just packed his suitcase and left. I think I was about eight at the time. He didn't say goodbye. Didn't even look at me. I remember watching him walk away. It was winter, getting dark early. He just disappeared into the night and I never saw him again."

Well, I certainly knew how to improvise a convincing story.

"I see. Let us talk about your mother now. What was she like? Would you care to tell me about her?"

At this I immediately smiled, unable to form a negative word about my mother.

"I really can't complain. Mum was great."

I thought back to when I was small. When my mother had scolded me, or made me a decent dinner, or smiled at me, or just plain talked to me. She had really done all that a mother was supposed to.

"She did her best to make up for the loss of my father. She and I, we got along great. She was so nice to me, unlike my father. We did everything together."

I sighed, looking away from Francis and back to the rain catching window.

"She passed away seven years ago. Her forever broken heart had finally given up. But she did give me a wonderful childhood despite everything that happened. I will always love her for that."

"Good, good." said Dr. Bonnefoy, "I am beginning to get a better picture here. That is enough about your parents for now. Let us take two minutes and we will talk about something else..."

o

I yawned quietly as I sat up in the hospital bed. I seem to have slept much longer than I thought I would after Kiku had left. I didn't think that I would've been able to sleep as much as I did after his departing words to me, but I must have been exhausted from all of these recent ordeals.

Sleep helped my general health immensely, I discovered. I felt that I could stand on my own two feet again. Steadily, I removed the off-white sheets from around me and turned, letting the pads of my feet adjust to the cold tiles of the floor. I stood without issue, pulling down the pant legs of my provided nightclothes as they must have ridden up in my sleep.

Sure, sleep had helped. Sure, I was feeling well and dandy now. But the fact still remained that I was stuck in a hospital full of shifty people who could, for some reason, not be trusted.

I needed to get out of there. I hated hospitals, they reminded me of my past. I just really wanted to go home and forget this whole mess had ever happened.

I gripped the band that most likely had my name printed onto it tautly as it was rather loose on my wrist, and advanced to the door of my room.

I looked to the gloves rack to my left and thought, hey, these might be useful, so I just took them. Don't give me that look I had just woken up. And those gloves turned out to be very useful.

Anyway.

Still facing my left, I saw that the needles on the clock were stuck at 10:08. This was peculiar, as I distinctly remembered listening to their ticking in my hours of lonesomeness here. It probably broke. Maybe it had just needed new batteries.

I opened the door to find myself in an off-white hallway. I wasn't surprised, really. Normally a hospital would have had pristine white of everything, but this one just seemed stale, and it didn't bother me at all.

I looked around, and my eyes landed on the drug chart next to my room's door. It appears that I'm on a lot of sedatives. I mean, the stuff they were giving me could have knocked out a horse and given it a headache for a week. And according to the chart, it could have also caused hallucinations and paranoia. It struck me as bizarre. Why were they giving me all of this? I knew for sure I wasn't crazy. If anyone was crazy, it was someone who had put me on all this medication for no good medical reason.

Walking down the hall a bit more, I stopped when I noticed the wilting roses on the side table between my room and my neighbor patient's. I glared in disgust at them and continues on my way.

I really despised roses.

There was also a drug chart for my neighbor patient, along with some notes on their condition and prescriptions. According to the chart, his name is Gilbert Beilschmidt, 20 years of age. He was taking a lot of sedatives like me, and had a long history of drug abuse. It seemed that on top of it all he was taking methadone for heroine withdrawal syndrome. At the bottom of the page there was a note saying that he was actually a private patient who was staying there out of his own free will.

He was a lucky man. It would not be so easy for me to leave that ward. I sighed resignedly and was faced with a door at the end of the hallway. I opened it, finding myself in the crowded hospital lobby. There were patients, nurses, and even doctors scurrying this way and that, though I didn't spot Kiku anywhere.

Behind the counter sat someone in a nurse's uniform. His eyes were a muddy red, and his hair about mid-neck length and dark chocolate brown. He was immersed in some sort of magazine, though no one was bothering him or asking him anything, so that was understandable. He also wore a black cap atop his head that did not match the uniform at all. Black and blue fit together fine, yes, just not when it's blue scrubs and a gangly looking lid for your head. He probably thought it made him look better, even. I knew his kind all too well. I was a nurse once, after all. Completely dedicated to his job and only in it for the money, yet completely close-minded.

I stood at the counter for a while, hoping to garner his attention, but no such luck as he just turned page after page of his foolish magazine. I eventually had to sigh and lean over the counter to tap on his shoulder lightly, and he turned to me, scowling.  
"Er, may I make a phone call, please?" I stammered.

"Oh, yeah, sure. You have to wait though, phone is being used, aru. Come back in five minutes?"

I nodded, uttering a small thank you as he turned his attention to the magazine. I still hadn't left, though.

I shuffled my feet nervously, not used to such crowded places. I'm guessing he knew I was still there as he turned back to me.

"Is there something else you needed?"

"Oh – u-um-" I thought of something to ask to possibly swindle myself out of there. "I-is Kiku there?"

Genius.

The male nurse blinked, "Who is that?"

How could he not have known Kiku? They worked in the same building, did they not?

"That young nurse who was with me last night. Black hair. Kind of chatty. He said his name was Kiku."

The nurse feigned an apologetic smile my way, "Sorry. There are a lot of people who work here. I cannot remember all of the names." his smile faded, "Can you return to your bed now, please? It's almost time for your medication. I can't be chasing around after every single patient."

Really, now? It looked to me like you were just reading an article about lock-picking, Mr. Busy Nurse.

"Beg your pardon?" I inquired, smiling my sweet little smile.

"I am very busy at the moment, aru. I will get you soon, okay?"

I nodded mutely, turning to go somewhere else. Certainly not back to my bed.

I examined the documents on the counter dumbly placed there for any patient to take.

Empty drug charts, visitor passes, old files, _aha!_ Discharge letters. I grinned proudly, moving to pick one up and fill it out in silence, until, "Don't touch those, aru! They are confidential documents."

_Well then maybe you shouldn't leave them on the goddamn counter you stupid ass hat._

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry..." I read his nametag, "I'm terribly sorry, _Nurse Wang_."

His eye twitched at the name, and he just went back to his little magazine as soon as I had left the area. Not that I stayed away, though.

"I feel much better now, Nurse Wang. Can you please discharge me?"

"I am glad to hear that, aru. But I cannot discharge you until Doctor Bonnefoy sees you. He should be doing his round very soon. Please return to your bed and wait for him, alright?"

It was almost comical. I already hated Francis, and I didn't even know the bloke yet. I nodded mutely to Nurse Wang, who had later corrected me with Nurse _Yao, _turned to his magazine again. It was as if he had sensors for that damn counter. Realizing I was not going to get a discharge letter without a fight, I sighed resignedly and finally gave up, moving somewhere else in the lobby. My eyes came across a door that very much resembled an entrance after a minute of scanning the room. Perhaps I could just walk out? Hey, it was worth a try, right? Perhaps that was the sedatives talking. Nonetheless, I opened the door and was met with fresh air and two security guard whose heads resembled beige, shiny eggs.

I approached them and put my arms behind my back sweetly, clasping my hands.

"Excuse me, where's the exit?" I said.

"It's just down the corridor, sir."

"Thank you very much. I'll just be on my way then."

I sidestepped him, hoping to move around him and his stubby friend, but he moved in my way in the nick of time.

"Can I see the discharge letter first?"

"A... a discharge letter? What for?" I said hopefully.

"Some of our patients are under observation and aren't allowed out of the ward. For their own safety, of course."

"It sounds like we're prisoners here..." I said quietly, and he blinked at me.

"I assure you that it's for the patients' safety, sir. If you haven't been discharged by the doctors, I'm afraid I can't let you through here. May I ask what your name is?"

I thought it best to be honest in this situation, though I highly considered using an alias.

"My name is Arthur kirkland. May I please leave now?"

"If you have not been discharged I can't let you through, Mr. Kirkland. I am afraid there's nothing I can do for you, sir. You should talk to the doctor first and come back with a letter and some form of identification." the guard reprimanded.

He stood his ground, and I could clearly see that I was not going to be able to leave this way. I frowned at the guard, turned on my heel, and entered the hospital once again.

I couldn't understand why these people weren't letting me out. I wasn't sick, I truly wasn't, not in the head nor elsewhere. I didn't need some French doctor's permission, I just wanted to go home.

Back in the lobby Yao, or Nurse Wang, was still seated at the counter, clearly very busy reading a magazine. I approached him again, wondering if I could somehow persuade him to let me out, perhaps just for a moment for a breath of fresh air.

"Can you tell those security guards to let me through, please?" I pleaded.

"I'll tell them in a minute." he waved his hand dismissively, completely immersed in his article. "I just have to finish my reading first."

"Please? Can I please just go now?" I looked to the side nervously, "I really don't like it here."

He finally looked at me, raising an eyebrow at the odd statement. I fidgeted a little, sending nervous glances at everyone who brushed past me. I was not used to such crowds, and I was not sick at all. So what was the point of keeping me here?

"Calm down, aru. There is no need to be so hasty."

"I-I'm not being –"

"I will be with you in a second. We are looking after a lot of patients, not just you, aru. Let me finish this."

Since when does looking after patients involve reading a bloody magazine?! I wanted to shout it, but refrained from doing so. If I were to shout something here I would definitely be sent back to my room, possibly extending my stay.

"Oh, I lost my place, now I have to read it all over again!"

If I wasn't such a gentleman I would have reached right over that counter at that moment and ripped the magazine in half.

Instead, I returned to the hallway in which my room was located in hopes of some peace and quiet. The moment I opened the door to the mute space, I heard a distinct rattling sound. Ahead of me at the end of the hall was a dirtied white door. Someone inside was jingling the knob, seemingly having troubles opening the filthy door. Eventually, it turned fully, and the door slowly creaked open. I watched as a shaky man with white hair emerged, slowly shutting the door behind him. He truly did not look to be in the best shape, as every step he took was swayed and rocking. He had crystal clear blue eyes that did not stare right through you like those of Kiku, but instead stared right past you as if you were not even there.

He must be the patient from the room next to mine, I decided. This man looked very confused. He had stopped stumbling around the hall, leaning on the wall to steady himself as his eyes traced the outlines of the room frantically, as if searching for something despite the muddles of his mind.

I slowly approached. As I got closer, his eyes landed on my suddenly, and I immediately stopped in my tracks at the mercy of this most likely mad man.

He gazed at me silently. What was his name again? Ah, yes. Gilbert. Gilbert Beilshmidt.

Gilbert must be another suicidal patient to be trapped in the same ward as me. It was odd. He looked like someone I knew from somewhere.

"Hello," I greeted carefully, "are you... alright?"

He swayed against the wall suddenly, and I realized that his pupils were abnormally large.

"May I talk to you for a moment?" I said.

"I can't talk." he whispered, "Leave me alone."

"I don't mean you any harm, sir... It's just that I'm trapped here, like you."

"Trapped?" he breathed, leaving the support of the wall and swaying on his own weight. "I don't know, trapped, I don't... It's really hard to think, well... It's hard to think without it."

I wondered what that had even meant.

"But I don't know you," he continued, "and you're not one of the nice nurses, either. They look after me so well. I... I trust the nurses like I trust my mom..."

"I just want to talk," I insisted, "I need your help."

He completely ignored me.

"Unless... unless it's my mom who sent you...? Was it her? Please tell me it was..."

I blinked. This man was obviously bonkers. He had just seemed so out of the loop from reality, even thinking about his mother at a time like this.

Though, for me, I just really, _really,_ needed to get out of there.

"Er, yes, I am, sure. I'm a... a good friend of your mother."

"I miss her... I don't remember _you_ though. But you know this... If you really are a friend, you will know my mother's name. It's a name that haunts me, and it's beautiful."

"Yes, of course I do. Now let me ask you –"

"_What is it?_"

"Oh... um."

"What is her name?"

"Hmm..." I thought deeply for a moment, staring Gilbert deeply in the eyes. He looked so lost. I pitied him, not only for being stuck here, but for whatever demon's he had rummaging in his mind.

"You don't even know her, you little liar. Just leave me alone already."

Gilbert began a swaying walk again, brushing past me as he did so. He did not return to his room, however, and just wandered that hall listlessly.

I tautly gripped the rubber gloves in my hand, wanting to get out of this hall, too. But I was strictly limited to the lobby, my room, and this hall. I then remembered the door that Gilbert had come from. What was that door, I wondered.

I hastily moved to it, grasping its handle much easier than Gilbert had, and opened the door.

It was just a restroom.

Still, I went in and closed the door behind me, leaning against it for a moment. I hadn't a clue as to why, but this place was simply showering me in paranoia. I kept thinking back to Kiku's warnings, telling me to trust no one here. I felt that I really shouldn't. I had to get out of here. Something bad was going to happen here, I knew it, and it was fast approaching.

The mirror was cracked at the corner, and several shards of glass lined the basin of the sink. Why had no one takes care of this? When I was nurse, this would have been a cause for some sort of trouble, I'm sure of it. There was a small post-it note taped to it as well, and it read, "Please stop writing messages on the mirror. While we are currently experiencing difficulties maintaining high levels of cleanliness due to sudden absence of our cleaning staff, we ask all patients to be considerate and help us keep the ward tidy."

I studied the mirror closely, looking for any sort of scribbled or writings depicted, but could not see a thing. Hatching an idea, I turned on the hot water, hoping for it to steam and fog the mirror. As the sink filled, some shards of glass floated to the surface of the water. Some, though, were large enough that they stayed at the bottom of the basin. I furrowed my brows and stuck my hand in stupidly, wincing and the scalding temperature, but I didn't mind the pain horribly. I took the clear shard and studied it as drops of burning water cascaded down, collecting on the tile in miniature puddles. I worried that I might be accidentally cut, but shrugged it off as I carefully held it by my side.

The mirror caught my sight again, and I turned my head to the side in question at what was written.

_E-I-L_

Dumbly, I grasped the shard harder.

I gave a short little gasp when I felt it cut through my skin, and I quickly lifted my hand to examine the wound. The cut was a darker color of my own skin, and steadily, it turned a deep crimson. Little beads of red formed around the edges, then combined with each other and fell to the ground, or left red trails down my arms. I breathed heavily in panic as the red mixed with clear, hot water on the dirty tile of the bathroom.

I leaned on the filthy wall, nearly jumping out of my skin when my back collided with something attached to the wall. I quickly moved away from it as a horrendously loud, obnoxious buzzing rang out. I had accidentally pressed the emergency bell.

I heard footsteps approaching. Panicked, I swept the blood off the ground with my hospital slippers like a mop. I grimaced at the warm feel of it seeping with my feet. I hid the shard behind my back along with my wounded hand, the sink still spewing steaming water.

The door opened simply and in walked Nurse Wang Yao.

"Is there an emergency, aru?" he said briskly.

"Um, yes, there is. I'm uh, feeling a little woozy." I feigned swaying on my feet, much like Gilbert, for emphasis.

Yao sighed, unimpressed. "Are you? You look fine to me."

I smoothly lied, "No, I'm really not feeling well."

"Fine, fine. I will call the doctor for you. But I cannot help it if he is busy and can't get here straight away." Yao turned the warming tap of the sink off.

"In the meantime, I know how to make you feel better. I think it's time we gave you some medication."

My eyes widened somewhat, but I brought them down to normal size again.

"Will you tell me your name and your date of birth? Never mind, I will check your name band."

He did so, lifting my unwounded arm from behind my back.

"Drink this liquid now, Arthur. It will make you all better aru." He produced a medication pot full of thick, red liquid. It smelled simply vile. He held it up to me, and I reeled away from it.

"Are you insane?" I hissed. "I'm... I'm not even ill."

Nurse Wang seemed taken aback by my sudden change in mood, but dismissed it just as quickly as he had noticed. "Okay. We are prepared for patients such as yourself, aru."

He raised his voice a bit.

"Can you come in please?" he called to someone outside the restroom.

One of the tall guards from earlier placed himself inside the door frame, blocking any routes of escape. I looked from him to Yao, exasperated. "You must be kidding me." I said dryly.

"Unfortunately, I'm not, aru. Now I will be forced to give you an injection. I've had enough of your mischief. You will feel a sharp scratch." he nodded to me, then the guard, "Hold him for me, will you?"

The burly guard did as he was told, and I was at least glad that he had not noticed that large cut on my hand. He gripped me firmly on my shoulders, bolting me to that spot. I squirmed wildly, but to no avail. Yao pulled my sleeve up, exposing my arm and holding the large needle steady. I trembled as I felt it pierce skin, whimpering and squirming.

It all went black, and at that point, I was absolutely certain that I needed to leave this place.

Then, I felt as though my mind was covered in a thin film, alternating from reality. I closed my eyes at the high sensation.

"Now," Yao's voice seemed to echo in my head, "go back to your room and rest. You will be able to relax and have a great sleep."

It seemed like hours to me that I stood there with shut eyes.

My breathing was the loudest thing in the entire hospital. I could clearly hear every inhale, every exhale.

I opened my eyes. Still in the bathroom, but it was different. The walls were riddled with awful mold, before they were only covered in grime and dust.

The mirror was fogged again.

_S-H-A_

I couldn't stand straight. I braced on the wall and rubbed at my eyes, blinking blearily when I felt my own blood swipe my eyes disgustingly. I ignored it, though.

Turning I found my way out of the bathroom and into a spinning hallway. I covered my mouth and swayed to the wall, gluing myself to the flat surface and waiting for everything to stop turning and spinning.

Everything was broken in this world of drugs.

The old, empty wallpaper hung loosely from the walls. All frames of glass were broken, letting in a nice breeze as I swayed in place and the room stopped revolving. I could hear the sounds of people interacting from the next room; the lobby. It came to me as frenzied whispers, evil chants out to get me. They sounded like demons poking at their pray, these whispers riddled my mind furiously, not allowing me to think straight in such a state. It was so hard to concentrate there.

I yanked open the door to my room strongly, and it came off its hinges with a shower of rust. I only dropped it, stepping onto the thin sheet of tile. My hand throbbed as the wound had not yet been treated, but I merely advanced into the room ignoring it.

I thought everything looked vaguely familiar here. Outside the broken windows that weren't there before, everything moved right, then left, then right again. As if I was in a car that was wildly turning. The walls of the room were a messy brick foundation.

Like the brick hallway I remembered limping through directly after I had lost my arm.

I looked down at the smaller trail of blood I had made, and thought to myself, perhaps time was repeating itself and causing me to go through agony time and time again.

That was probably just my narcosis talking.

I sat on the bed, watching the world surge past me wildly. I slouched, landing in an awkward resting position, as I closed my eyes once more.

It was as I left my maddened state that I realized something.

_E-I-L_

_S-H-A _

The letters written on the mirror.

_S-H-E-I-L-A_

I would be willing to bet money that that was Gilbert's mum's name.

I don't know how this came to me at that moment in time, but it did. And I sensed that I would need to get on standard communicating grounds with the drugged patient sooner or later.

I then drifted off into dazed sleep.

O

My eyes spread open cautiously as I reviewed my surroundings. Okay, still in the hospital.

I stood slowly, realizing that I was in an odd state of being half on and off the bed.

The drugs had worn off and I felt better, but I couldn't let them do that to me again. The fact still remained that I needed to get out of the hospital.  
I made my way to the restroom. You don't need to hear more about that.

Anyway, I had found the same bloodied shard of glass from yesterday discarded onto the bathroom floor. I picked it up again, and washed it off, noticing that the blood of my cut had clotted and I now had a nice, ugly scab marring my hand.

Miraculously, I was still holding the rubber gloves I had grabbed on my morning ventures. I mentally slapped myself and looked for a waste bin, finding it nowhere. Sighing, I just dropped the in the toilet. I pulled the flush lever, and it did as it was told until the gloves reached the bottom. It clogged, making an irritated gurgling sound as I grumbled exasperatedly.

The water overflowed from the bowl, and I stepped back so that it would not come in contact with my already wet slippers.

I pressed the bell, hoping for someone other than Yao.

Sadly, Yao opened the door speedily. "Aru?" he said in question. As if that was a real word.

"The toilet is clogged." I murmured, disappointed.

"Wha? Oh, well that's not very much of an emergency."

"It is when you need to use it urgently like I do." I said, just to sass him. I had used the bathroom just moments before he came in.

"I see. Well then, I'll sort it out, aru."

He retrieved a plunger from behind the toilet, setting to work.

"It's the gloves again." he growled, frustrated.

I took the opportunity, leaving the restroom in pursuit of the lobby while Nurse Wang was busy with this little conundrum.

A discharge letter was on the unoccupied counter, belonging to one Gilbert Beilschmidt. The letter said that he'd admitted himself into the hospital and is allowed to leave whenever he wishes. All he would need to do is show the letter to the security guards at the entrance.

I beamed, taking the letter for myself. I highly doubted that Gilbert left often in his state, so the guards would be unlikely to tell that I wasn't him. This was my ticket out of here.

They would surely check my wristband, though. Perhaps I could convince Gilbert into swapping with me. I remembered his mother's name and moved back to the ward.

Perfect timing. The lanky albino emerged from his room in his usual haze, eyes glossed over and swaying.

I approached him, "Shall we swap our name bands?" I asked hopefully.

"My mom told me not to talk to strangers." he murmured childishly.

It was as if he was in such a haze that it reverted him back a few years.

"I can't take it... I... I'm being a good person now. Only talk to nurses... and good friends... If..." He suddenly paused at nothing, then resumed, "If you really are, a... a friend, you'd know her name."

"Sheila." I supplied, smiling kindly.

He seemed to erupt into happiness, suddenly approaching me and invading my personal space.

"Yeah! She did send you, huh? Sorry I didn't believe you... my... my head's a little screwed up."

I just nodded, grinning fakely.

"Right. Can we have a little chat, then?"

Gilbert nodded, beaming at me all the while.

I shifted my eyes, looking for any eavesdroppers and finding none.

"Something is wrong with this place." I whispered.

He blinked, "I think it's nice here. I have to stay here... do what they say, take the pills they give me..." he grinned coyly, "Sometimes if I'm good, they even give me the red stuff. I wait for it, I'm being good."

"What is this... red stuff?"

"It's a drug, my favorite one... It's awesome."

It had struck me then just why Gilbert chose to stay in this madhouse. He was addicted to the drugs.

"The red stuff takes the pain away. I have to stay here. The good nurses are so nice. They always remember, and they know I'm suffering. But it... it's not the same as the drugs I see in my dreams. On..." he giggled, then whispered, "on the other side of the mirror, there's a spider's heart full of drugs. I just can't seem to find it anymore."

"I... I see..." I was slightly disturbed by this blatant show of addiction. More so by the fact that no one seemed to care about this poor man's condition. I swallowed my worry though, and continued the conversation.

"What exactly is this little 'treat' you mentioned?"

"That's the red tear drop of pure awesomeness. They bring it and I drink it down... And then... my pain goes away. Without it... I just... I feel so angry. It's like I'm going crazy!" He paused, mulling over that. "Ha ha ha... It's... it's funny but... _I just get so fucking angry sometimes!_"

I reeled back at that little outburst, a bit frightened. But I steeled myself and continued listening.

"I think I'm dying." he whispered. "We're all dying, I heard... He said I'd go to hell for it... but I didn't even do anything. I didn't know... Does he know?"

"Who?"

"_Him!_"

"Right, okay. No, probably not."

"I need the red medicine... I need it now... I have to be good. I have to be nice."

An idea formed in my fickle mind.

"Maybe I could get you some of it. Do you know where they keep it?"

He looked downtrodden.

"They hide it well. You can't get there." he paused, "Or maybe you can. I see it sometimes... in my dreams. It's where the nurses are. But in my dream, there aren't any nurses... I see it... but I can't get it... It's so near... and yet so far... I can still hear that broken beat of the spider's heart."

I shook my head, wanting a change in subject.

"How about we swap our name bands?" I asked.

"Oh... yeah, I don't mind. But that would be a favor to you, huh?"

"Well, technically you wouldn't _lose _anything, because I'd give you _my _name band instead. Does that make any sense?"

"Sure, yeah." he replied. It seemed that I was finally getting somewhere here.

"I do want something better in return, though. I'm not _that _stupid. I know you want to use it to get out of here."

I flinched and he smiled knowingly, apparently gaining a moment of clarity.

"I... I never said you were stupid, I... I just really want to go home. Please understand..." I apologized politely.

"That's fine," he said, "I don't mind. I'll give it to you if you get me the red stuff. What do you say?"

"I thought nurses gave it to you anyway."

"No, not that. I'm talking about the _real _thing. Something you can only get in the world of dreams... Now, that is something _special_!"

"Is it... safe?"I wondered aloud.

"It's perfectly safe!" he assured.

"Erm... okay. I'll see what I can do." Gilbert smiled brightly at that. "I'll talk to you later, alright?"

"Yeah, go. Be careful. They're watching us. And remember, we have to be nice to earn the red stuff. Always be good to them..."

I turned and Gilbert continued murmuring to himself. I pitied him, the poor man. Stuck in drugs forever because some twisted hospital can't see what's right in front of them.

They hadn't even noticed that I was armed with a sharp piece of glass. If they were to find it on me, they would think of me as a complete psycho.

And perhaps they would be right, I thought to myself as I rang the emergency bell again, ready to be drugged and get the 'red stuff' in my dreams.

Whatever that meant.

O

The halls spun around me endlessly as I limped into the lobby. I had yet to venture here in this whimsical world, and I wondered what was in store.

The doors opened with a creak, which to me was a splash, and I heard the erratic tapping of something. No, an erratic _beating._

Hanging from the ceiling was what looked to be a working scale model of a beating heart. It was, indeed, filled to the brim with a thick red liquid.

It was hanging by several conjoined metal poles connected to the grimy ceiling, and they seemed to move and crawl in my blurry eyes. They looked like the creeping legs of a broken arachnid.

_The red stuff inside a spider's heart in the world of dreams._

I didn't hesitate to produce my glass shard and approach the strange contraption. It was when I lifted the shard and stabbed the heart that things began to go blank. I clearly remember the red liquid gushing out at me, staining me even, but I cannot fathom for the life of me what happened after that.

When I awoke, there was a medication pot of thick red liquid on the side table of my bed. I picked it up and went into the hall to find Gilbert.

He was sat haphazardly on the tiled floor, no doubt dirtying the hospital pajamas.

I held the drug out to him discreetly, whispering, "I've found the thing you asked me for." I paused, "But... are you _absolutely _certain it won't harm you?"

"Oh, that's funny. Of course it won't." Gilbert reached for it.

"Fine. I hope you know what you're doing. Can I have your name band now, please?"  
"Yes. No matter what they say, I _do _keep my promises."  
"What do they... You know what, it doesn't matter." I gave him the drug and he ogled at it, grinning happily. "Thank you for your help." I said quietly.

He just stood with his new drink, not answering me and returning to his room.

That was the last time I ever saw Gilbert Beilschmidt.

I now had Gilbert's name band and his letter. I thought I was home free.

I didn't realize just how wrong I was.

I approached the burly and bald guards stationed at the entrance to the hospital.

He sighed, recognizing me.

"Sorry sir, I can't let you through. We will need to see a discharge letter from your doctor first."

I smiled at him, displaying the items.

"Here. Are you satisfied?"

He nodded, clearly surprised. "Yes. That seems fine. Can I just check your name band to confirm you are indeed Gilbert Beilschmidt?"

_Oh alright, I didn't realize you knew how to read!_

I nodded cheerfully, displaying my wrist to him with the band. I dared not say those thoughts aloud. "There you go. May I leave now?"

"Of course, thank you sir." He moved aside to let me through. "We'll see you soon."

See me soon...? No matter. I was out of there now.

The automatic doors slid open for me and I felt the briskly chilly and moist English air attack my skin. The first thing I looked at when I was outside was the fresh overcast sky.

The moment my eyes shifted, they were met with dark purple ones that could read you like a book. I stared into the face of none other than Francis Bonnefoy, my alleged doctor whom I had never even spoken with.

He stared right back at me, surprised.

"Ah... you are Arthur Kirkland, are you not?"

"Erm... Well... Perhaps?" I laughed nervously.

"Do you mind if I ask where you are heading to?"

"I-I was just going for a little walk... Stretch my legs, get some fresh air..."

He said nothing and I felt a hand on my shoulder. Turning, I saw Yao looking at me sympathetically from under his stupid hat. The guards were standing behind him somberly.

"Oh give it a rest." I bemoaned, "I guess I won't be going anywhere."

"Mon ami, please relax." Dr. Bonnefoy comforted ineffectively, "There has been a mistake. You have been prescribed wrong medication."

_No shit, Sherlock._

"I apologize sincerely on behalf of my team and the hospital, but luckily we managed to spot it in time."

"On time?!" I exclaimed, "You have no idea what I've been through!"

"Once again, I am truly sorry. I promise no more drugs will be given to you. I personally guarantee you will have a good peaceful sleep tonight and you can be discharged in the morning."

"Why can't I go tonight?" I argued, "I want to go now!"

"I am really sorry, but we cannot legally discharge... er, suicidal patients, without a full psychiatric assessment. It is too late for it now, but I promise we will have a chat in my office first thing in the morning, alright? And then you can go home, is that okay with you?"

I looked to Yao and the guards, and back to Francis.

"I haven't really got much choice, have I?"

o

**(AN: This is present time. The past parts with Francis were still a part of this session, though.)**

"Now I would like to ask you some questions about your life, Arthur." Francis leaned back in his chair, relaxing as I sat neatly with my hands folded in my lap. I was finally given back my original clothing, the pink sweater vest and blue ribbon, along with my beige pants. I felt they made my eyes sparkle.

Dr. Bonnefoy continued, "You may find them very personal, but it is important that you answer me as honestly as possible."

"Let's just get this over with." I murmured. "I'd like to go home at last."

"Of course, I understand, mon cher. So, Arthur, let us see. Are you living alone at the moment?"

"I rent a flat. It's quite lonely most of the time. I used to like being on my own, but I'm not sure if I still do. Too much time with my thoughts, and no one to talk to. Maybe I should get a parrot? We'd have a little chat each time I feel like opening up."

"Or maybe you could consider finding friends through our Suicide Watch service? They're very good. Helped a lot of people."

"Okay... Maybe I will." I lied easily.

"What do you do for a living?" He inquired.

"I'm between jobs at the moment. I'll find something soon, but it's been difficult. I didn't feel that great, I felt... weak and... powerless, and... tired, most of the time. I felt awfully tired."

Francis smiled knowingly, "Typical depression symptoms. We can give you something for that. You will feel stronger and motivated."

I smiled back. "I admire your faith in modern medication, doctor. I hope you're right."

"Describe to me what your mornings look like. What is the first thing you do each day?"

"I lie in bed awake. Can't bring myself to open my eyes."  
"I see..."

"I'm scared of the coming day. I know already what will happen."

"And what's that, Arthur?"

I shifted my eyes, looking away sadly.

"Nothing, really. Nothing at all happens in this stupid empty life. Sometimes I wonder why I even get dressed. What for? For who? I hardly ever get out of the flat anyway."

"Would you say that you feel safer at home than outside?"

"I... Yeah, I suppose. It's not really about safety... I've just felt sad for a long time now. Really sad, you know? Somehow it brings me down even more when I go out and see all those happy successful people. It makes me feel more like a failure. If I don't see it, it doesn't hurt that much."

There was a tense silence that Francis broke with another question.

"What do you think is missing in your life? Or rather, what is one thing that you think would make your life better?"

"A... a friend." I murmured, "A good one. Someone I can finally trust. But I can't see anyone will turn up any time soon. I'm a bit odd around people, and they usually avoid me."

"You will have to try to open up a bit." explained Francis. "Hopefully the Suicide Watch worker will work with you on that."  
"I don't think it will help much. I heard they're not very good."

"Really? I am sorry to hear that. Have you ever attended group therapy for depression or some other form of counseling?"

"No. I'm not sure that's a good idea. Especially the group therapy thing. I'd hate it."

"You should at least give it a try first, and then decide. If you do not like it we can think of something else, right?"

"If you insist. But I doubt it will help."

"Do you have problems sleeping?"

"Every night. I used to take pills for that and my mood swings. There aren't any left now though." I said grimly.

"In the light of recent events I think you should stay off any sort of pills for now. I suggest drinking some hot tea before bed instead. Would you describe for me how you feel at the moment?"  
At first, I had felt like the entire world was against me. I felt like everything pushed me toward what happened. And yet, now that I had recovered, I felt a lot better. I felt like I could move on in life. However, there was still an inkling of uncertainty in me.

"Definitely better than before the... accident."

"Good, good." Francis cheered. "Hopefully you can now move on from here. With some luck you will enjoy life again. Suicide attempts often have that effect on people. It is the same with near death experience, it makes you realize that you are not ready to die yet.

"Do you find it hard to concentrate?"

"Yes, sometimes."

"Do you drink alcohol, Arthur?"

"Only sometimes." I murmured sheepishly, recalling the cheap drinks in the cupboard.

"I would suggest that you do not consume any alcohol at all for a while. Does that sound like something you can do?"

"Yes, of course. I'm not a big drinker anyway."

"Sometimes, when life gets too much and people feel sad or upset, they think about suicide. Do you often think about suicide?"

"No, of course not. This was the first time, and I don't know what got into me. It's hard to explain why I did it. I must have thought there were no other options at the time. But I never used to think about it or plan it, it just happened, like I suddenly lost control. I knew what I was doing was wrong, and yet I was unable to stop it. Strange, isn't it? It was like another me had emerged."

Dr. Bonnefoy nodded his head.

"Please, in your own words, try to explain to me, why did you really try to take your own life, mon cher?"

"I think I wanted to show everyone how unhappy or hurt I was deep inside."  
"Who did you want to show?"

I swallowed thickly, "I'm not even sure now." It came as a whisper. "People, I think. Everyone. Myself? I don't really know. Please, ask me about something else."

"Do you feel as if you are a burden? Or that life is not worth living?"

"Not anymore. It's odd, but I feel lighter now. I feel stronger." I thought of the wheat fields and the fog, the forests, "Besides, I live alone. Who could I be a burden to?"

"What makes you feel better?"

"... A long bath." I said after a moment. "It helps me relax. A nice bath and a good book. That's the first thing I want to do when I get home."

"What makes you feel worse?"

"Loneliness. I wish I had someone to talk to sometimes."

"And yet you avoid people?"

"Because they... they're only interested in themselves."

"Not all of them, surely," he comforted, "I am beginning to think you are actually afraid of finding a friend because it would force you to come out of your shell."  
"Call it what you like, I'll sure be glad when I find the right person someday."

"Have you imagined your funeral and how people will react to your death?"

"I have imagined it often. I hoped people would feel guilty..." I chuckled dryly, "But then again, probably no one would come. Mine would be one of those graves in weeds and dirt, stuck in the far corner of the cemetery where nobody ever goes. And sad little me would be forgotten quicker that yesterday's rain. Now, when I think about it, I know that really isn't what I want."

He nodded in understanding, smiling kindly.

"Finally, I would like you to tell me about Alice."

My eyes widened and I visibly stiffened.  
"Alice?"

"Yes. Your wife. I think this is important. What can you tell me about your relationship? What had happened between you two?"

I remembered her bright green eyes hidden under untrimmed eyebrows glaring at me. It made me absolutely sick to my stomach. I wanted to lean over and vomit into the waste basket near Francis's desk at just the thought of her.

"There's nothing to talk about." I whispered sharply.

Francis leaned forward in his chair somewhat, looking at me confusedly with dark violet eyes.

"Hmm... Fine. I suppose you have opened up enough for one day. One more question. This is just a formality, but I have to ask. Are you going to do it again?"

"That's a hard one," I simpered, "I don't know. But, hey, I think I've got it! The answer is, 'No, I'm not, thank you very much'."

"Excellent!" cheered Francis uncharacteristically. He had a peculiar light in his eyes that I could not decipher the meaning of. "We are nearly done here, then. There is just one last thing I must clear with you. What exactly happened last night?"  
I blinked.  
"Well, after I'd met you outside yesterday I went back to my room and fell asleep. I slept very well, considering what happened earlier, but then someone woke me up. It was the same nurse who was so friendly with me the first night. He said we needed to talk..."

o

"We must go, Arthur-san." Kiku shook me awake briskly, looking into my blue eyes with his red. I sat up, alarmed and in a daze. "You are not safe here." he said.

"B-but..." I stuttered.

"Please, you must follow me! Quickly!" He dragged me out of my bed by my arms tautly. He looked alarmingly panicked, his normally calm red eyes turned into shiny little red beads. He quickly turned and rushed out of my room, the door slamming shut loudly behind him. I wavered for a moment, puzzled.

O

"I went after him. The ward seemed very quiet. It must have been late at night."

o

"Hurry!" he called from the hallway.

I grumbled incoherently and followed after him, finding him impatiently standing in the empty hall. The moment he saw me emerge from my room, he bolted toward the lobby, gesturing for me to follow.

I jogged after, though it was a difficult task in my still bloodied hospital slippers.

"Wait!" I called, "What's going on here?!"

I stopped jogging, panting. Kiku was at the entrance, waiting for me and continuously looking around in a severe state of paranoia.

O

"The security guards were gone." I told Francis, "He pointed at the corridor and said, 'You go first. I will explain everything in a moment'."

o

I did as I was told, leaving the building and standing in a new corridor I don't recall being there before.

He soon came out behind me, looking at me with a serious and sympathetic expression.

"Arthur-san... If we don't escape now, they are going to hurt you. Please trust me. I know a way out of here. I will help you escape. We have to go down this corridor. I will be right behind you."

I nodded dumbly as he pushed me ahead, stumbling a little and breaking into a scurrying jog. He followed just as fast, most likely slowing for me.

"Turn left here. We can use the maintenance lift to get out of this place." ordered Kiku.

I hesitated in my mind. What on Earth had gotten into Kiku? He was not acting himself at all, then again, I hardly knew him. Who was I to say?

I did as I was told, turning left when he had ordered me to. He darted forward and jammed at the button to call for the maintenance lift, panting as he did so. I wondered why he was pushing himself so much for my sake, or perhaps his as well.

The doors opened and we entered the lift, Kiku panted and I asked if he was alright. He nodded in the affirmative, standing up straight and steeling himself. For what, I did not know.

The doors opened, and I gasped at the chill of cold air that hit me. Then I realized. We were on the ground floor before, so why had we taken the lift?

Now fully opened, the doors of the lift revealed the lining of crates along the rooftop of the hospital. I turned to Kiku in question, and hauntingly discovered that he was no longer behind me. I was completely alone on this rooftop for reasons I could not gather at the time. At least I thought I was.

As I wandered the area aimlessly, a rustling sound from behind me startled me. I whirled around to find none other than Kiku.

He stood on the ledge of the building, facing me with a horribly grim expression marring his face. The dark shadows under his crimson eyes were more prominent than ever at that moment, his pale features magnified by the full moon of night.

"What are we doing on the roof, Kiku?" I said quietly, nervously.

I approached him quietly, and my eyes widened when I saw the state he was in. His entire front was covered in deep, red blood, matching his eyes in a twisted, nonsensical matter that seemed to make them glow in the moonlight.

"What are you doing?" I said, "And why is there blood on your clothes?"

The wind whipped us gently, the loose fabrics of my hospital pajamas and his white scrubs swaying gently.

"Kiku –"

"It is faster than the stairs this way, Arthur-san." he said matter-of-factly, as if he were talking about why the sky was blue. "All the doors are locked, anyway."

He stared me down for some long, agonizing moments, hoping to judge me by my reaction. I said nothing, focusing on not retching and the sickening smell of iron emanating from the blood on his scrubs.

"This is the only way out of here." he said calmly, "The only escape."

There was a pregnant silence as I gazed up at his elevated form. His arms were outstretched in a way that make him look like a red, white, and black scarecrow. He stared right back down at me, smiling a scared smile.

"Let's both jump. It won't hurt, you will see."

"This is a bad idea," I reasoned, "Come down here and we'll talk about how to get out some other way –"

"I have made up my mind. I need to end my suffering."

Kiku's gaze dropped from me to the floor, and I could see the sad, sparkling trails of tears descending down his face. "I have no one to live for anyway." he said quietly, "No one ever listened to me. No one ever cared."

"I listened!" I argued stubbornly, "You're a nice person. You have your whole life ahead of you."

"You _listened_?" he guffawed, "Did you really?!"

"Of course I did! You talk a lot but I've always been a good listener. I liked talking to you."

Kiku laughed mirthlessly, obviously not believing what I was saying.

"So do you remember that story then, the one I told you? The one about a woman in A & E?"

I nodded.

"Yes. She smoked a cigarette and burned in bed."  
"... Okay, you have listened. Maybe you're right, or maybe it was just a blind guess."

He looked back up at me, that trail of tears and horribly sad smile washing me in horrible empathetic dread.

"But I have to jump, Arthur-san. I have no choice anymore."

"Wait! Please stop and think for a second!"

"Did you hear me? I have no choice! I would stay if I could, but... but..."

"Yes, you do!" I shouted, "You can choose to come back inside with me and we'll just forget this like it never happened, okay?"

"Do you really listen? Do you remember that other thing I told you? I'm sure I told you about the people I live with. Did I tell you what one of them does for a living? I doubt you remember that."

"She's a stripper."

"Correct. Or at least, I think she is. You really do listen, Arthur-san. I just wish that other people would."

I retaliated, "I'm sure they do! It can't be that bad..."

"What do _you _know? Why do you care anyway?"

The wind picked up, making me stumble on this high elevation. Kiku cried silently, waiting for my answer as he stood dangerously on the concrete ledge.

"I just don't want you to make the same mistake I did." I said quietly.

"I thought you of all people knew how it would feel to be trapped and you cannot trust anyone?"

"Look, Kiku, there has got to be someone out there who cares about you."  
His expression hardened, "My colleagues don't care, my family does not care, even my girlfriend never cared. She said she needed to go... find herself. Did I tell you _when _she broke up with me?"

"On Valentine's Day."

"Yes. You and I could have been good friends, you know? You really do listen... I... I will be back. When you need help, I will be there, Arthur-san... But right now it is time for me to go..."

"No!" I shouted, reaching for him just as he slipped from the ledge.

Kiku had tipped himself backward, the last remnants of him on this roof his bloody footprints and little tear stains.

I rushed to look over the ledge, hopelessly hoping he would have grabbed onto some object jutting out of the building, but to no avail. All I saw was his retreating form facing me, the tears still flowing silently, the blood still flowing and mixing with them.

I turned from the ledge, letting out a muffled sob as I covered my mouth. I heard the impact of his body onto a car, the glass broke and the alarm blared loudly into the cold city and dogs barked loudly in reaction.

At that moment, I had realized something. Kiku had not just been covered in blood, but he had been bleeding. How else would it have flowed so intensely on his drop? He had been bleeding from multiple large wounds on his abdomen, acting as if nothing was wrong.

Or perhaps he could not feel it.

In my mind, I had discovered that strangest notion that perhaps Kiku had been dead the moment he woke me up that night.

O

"After that, I just went back to my room. I tried telling people about Kiku, but they all thought I was crazy again and didn't believe me."

Francis gazed at me owlishly, his eyebrows strongly furrowed in intense thought and what I thought was comprehension.

"And you are absolutely sure you saw Kiku jump off this building?"

"You know what, it doesn't matter anymore. I just want to finish this and get some fresh air." I whispered.

"Oh mom ami, I know Kiku very well. He would not do something like that. As a matter of fact, I saw him this morning. He is fine."

Francis comforted me, but oddly had a strained look marring his features.

"I would like you to come with me and see him. Say hello. Make sure he is alright." He smiled at me, his eyes twinkling strangely.

"Stop treating me like I'm crazy." I growled, then sighed, "Fine, I'll go."

He nodded, dismissing my odd display and moving to the door of his office. Dr. Bonnefoy stood waiting for me, watching me closely as I withdrew from my own seat. He had his hands in the pockets of his jeans, studying me strangely as I did so.

I came closer and he moved aside, granting me access to the door of his office. I turned the knob, but it would not turn all the way. It made a clicking noise and I realized I was locked in, and I turned to Francis in question who merely stood watching me.

"The door is locked?"

He took a step forward.

"I plan ahead, Arthur. I had a feeling in my gut and my gut is never wrong."

Another step forward.

"I feel like I got to know you. I am very sorry you have had such a difficult life."

One more step too close for comfort.

"I like your blue eyes and your adorable little freckles."

I backed up hard against the door, trying to distance myself from him.

"You are a clever man, Arthur... but the sadness has poisoned you for so long. There is no coming back from it."

Another step and my breathing grew frantic. I could smell him and his awful rot. His speech grew brick as he came closer.

"For what it is worth, I would have let you go if you had not mentioned Kiku." he growled.

Suddenly, he lurched forward and his hands emerged from his pockets. He had been carrying what looked like a pocket knife, but I can't be too sure. He gripped me strongly by my neck and I let out a weak little yelp, but soon I was unable to scream as my voice was taken from me. He plunged the knife into my abdomen, once, twice, three times. I felt the blood flowing through my mouth and saw it stain the walls, and I wanted so badly to scream, but his disgusting calloused hands against my throat had somehow prevented me from doing so.

I lost count of just how many times he plunged that knife into me from there, as he eventually let me fall limply to the ground. My vision was fuzzy, and all I saw was a haze of red, white, and Francis's shoes. I shut my eyes and let out a breathless whimper, seeing nothing but white but still feeling all of the pain.

I think he sat and continued to viciously stab me, and I felt every single wound left on my body. I could feel all of the pain he was dealing to me, all of the pain I had ever felt combined into one. The overwhelming taste of red, liquid iron consumed me, and the urge to vomit only spewed more from me. I felt tears prickle at the corners of my eyes, but never falling as I would not let them. I would never cry for someone like Francis. The pain consumed me and I knew nothing else at that point in time. I felt that I could feel the pain of his most likely other victims swelling within me, and at that point I knew. Francis Bonnefoy was nothing but a sick, dirty, rotten parasite.

O

The first thing I felt was a dull ache in my stomach. I opened my eyes blearily to look down and see my stained, torn clothing. It was dyed red, the color of Kiku's eyes. I wondered if Francis had been telling the truth when he said that my companion was still alive, but I wouldn't have put it past such an awful human being to lie.

My foggy mind questioned where I was at this moment, and why I was even alive. I should have died back there. I had definitely felt death approaching, and yet...

I looked around, discovering that I was inside some sort of theater. The velvet seat I sat in felt very comfortable, and the dimming of the room worked wonders on my pounding head. I wondered how my wounds had healed. I was no longer bleeding, and the skin of the area was completely restored, as if I wasn't just stabbed mercilessly by a psychotic French doctor.

I worked my way out of the seat, dizzily standing. I gasped when the front of the room, where a show would take place, erupted in a fit of lights.

The sound of a crow cawing listlessly came with it, in a fantastical show of lights and peculiarity. The ebony bird was perched atop a large screen befitting for such a place, next to a wiry black chandelier hanging above a random side table with a random lamp.

The crow flew away somewhere, and the screen began broadcasting a gray iris moving wickedly at such a close space. The eye looked from left to right, up and down, then landed on me. It blinked, making excruciating squishing noises as it did so, and it seemed to crinkle. If it had a face, it would have been smiling.

"_Nasty Doctor Bonnefoy... He hurt little Arthur..." _The voice echoed throughout the room, sounding a blatantly evil siren into my head. It simply reeked of instability in this room.

"Who... who are you?" I asked, still hearing the cawing of the crow from somewhere in the room.

"_I am the _Crow_, of course! I will get you out of here... unless little Arthur wants to stay?..." _the distorted voice paused, and the eye blinked with a gush. _"I thought so! There are two doors leading out of this place. One of them will simply take Arthur back to where he belongs. But behind the other one... these is a great reward for him! It's something he always wanted... something he longs for every single day..."_

"Where are those doors? I can't see them."

"_Just walk back to the right side of the stage. My dear little Arthur can't miss them..." _said the Crow, blinking sickly again. I did as I was told, albeit I was rather terrified.

Just as the Crow had said, there were indeed two doors. I studied them, nothing very special, just two ordinary wooden doors.

I cried out in shock, stumbling back when I heard a wan noise come from somewhere, and two very large, very terrifying dolls seemed to appear out of thin air along with the doors. Their eyes followed me, as did their heads turn when I did. There was one adjacent to each door, both gazing at me in the blood covered red dresses and burning scarlet eyes.

"_Does ickle Arthur like my girls? I knew he would."_

The frightening dolls both had their lips parted, caught in a never-finished phrase. They had large noses and round faces, disproportionately long arms compared to the length of their red flannel dresses and stubby legs. They looked so confused, if you could even give these things an emotion.

I gulped and stood straight again, facing the doors instead of the dolls.

"What ever they are," I bit out harshly at the Crow, "tell them to stop staring."

"_But they are here to guide Arthur! They are the guardians of the doors! They know which door he should enter to get his reward! But there is one problem..."_

"There's always a problem." I said negatively, keeping my eyes solely on the doors and not the haunting dolls. "I'm not even surprised that there would be one. Now which door do I go through?"

I was beginning to think I was mad for acting so nonchalant about all of this.

"_I will leave that to Arthur's own best judgment. But this might be his only chance to find what he had lost. Waste it, and Arthur will never get it back... Arthur has one question, and he can only ask one of them. He must use it wisely..."_

"Fine, fine, I can do that. So what's the catch?"

"_It's very simple, one of my girls always tells the truth... while the other one always lies!" _The Crow gained a mask of mania, giggling a little in its broken, shattered voice.

"And I'm guessing you can't tell me which is which?"

"_It's something I've forgotten myself a long time ago, Arthur. But does it really matter? One question is all Arthur needs to find the right door."_

I just wished they would stop staring at me.

I experimentally poked one of the dolls, catching dust and grime on my finger. I poked it again, this time harder. "That will teach you to stop staring and act proper, you horrible, ugly... doll." I grumbled. I came to the doll's twin, still grumbling. "You're just an ugly... disgusting... disfigured... foul... hideous thing.

"So, which door would the other doll point me to?" I asked cleverly.

They did not say a word, only a light I had not noticed before lit above the door on the right.

So I entered left.

Inside, on a wonderfully decorated table with a pressed orange cloth, was a vase full of roses. I wanted to rip them apart. "Is... is this supposed to by my reward? _Flowers?! _I hate flowers! You lied to me!" I realized, "... You lied..."

I reached for the blooming buds, grimacing at the thought of touching such things. As I got within a mere centimeter, chills ran down my spine and I spotted the eye of the Crow to my left, somehow transmitting its image through the endless shadows.

"_Did you really think there would be anything precious waiting for you here? Look at those lovely roses... Just like everything else, in the end, they just turn into ash."_

The Crow's eye faded along with the roses, as they speedily wilted and were whisked away in a nonexistent wind. It came back shortly, blinking wanly with that crinkling smile of a bird.

It looked ahead, and another door materialized itself in my path of vision. I entered the new door cautiously.

On the other side, I was in... I was in Matthew's house. The room with the candles. How did I get there? More so, how did I get into that peculiar theater with the crow? Where had Matthew gone? I walked past, apparently creating a steady breeze, enough to eliminate a pathetic candle flame.

Memories of another person entered my mind.

She was an old woman, her mouth permanently open in wheezing breaths as she remained unconscious. A heart monitor, most likely hers, beeped in the distance. It was at regular tempo, what one might think of for an elder's heart.

Then, the beats came farther apart. The machine made an alarm-like sound, most likely installed to alert nurses or the like of an unable patient's troubles.

She was in the room I was trapped in at the hospital.

As her heart stopped beating and she went into a cardiac arrest, no help came. There was no response from any nurses, nor any from doctors.

Only the distant sound of careless footsteps as the woman died quietly, drowning in herself.

_Nobody ever listens._

O

The room was pitch black. There was a squirming, or squishing sound coming from the confines of it. I moved forward, stopping when I found a body bag resting on a bloodied metal grate. There seemed to be an inkling of light at this end.

Wherever I was, it smelled. It smelled of rot and cigarettes.

The bag squirmed still, jerking wildly, but no other sound emerged from within.

I carefully pulled the zipper, observing who was inside.

It was me again. I looked at my own dead body, his closed eyes. They suddenly opened, and I feared that perhaps this me was not yet dead, and that I was staring into the face of my doppelganger. He reached a shaky, bloodied arm to me, as if in pleading as he sat up on his own. He has prominent stab wounds marring him, exactly where Dr. Bonnefoy had attacked, while I was completely spotless.

He looked at me with horribly bloodshot, wide eyes, and opened his mouth in a dry scream that never came. He was in pain, I could tell, but he had no voice.

The suddenly, I felt a jolt, and I was inside his body. He was me, and I was him.

"_You treacherous dirty bastart!_" I allowed myself to scream, directing all of my hate to Francis. "I open my heart to you, and you stab me to death in cold blood! You'll pay for this, I swear you will!"

I don't think he could hear my ranting, he was not even in this room.

Oh, this room. It had changed from before. Instead of the pitch dark corridor, I was inside a room lined with mattresses. The walls were securely cushioned in a comforting way, yet they were horribly painted with blood.

But wait, all of this would mean that Matthew was right. I couldn't die, I was immortal!

I laughed giddily to myself, my eyes splaying a wide array of emotions, ranging from anger, happiness, sadness, and insanity.

"I think it's time to find out how very mortal you are, Doctor." I laughed.

I recognized the suicide note I had written posted to the soft wall.

"_My name is Arthur Kirkland._

_I live alone in this old two-bedroom flat, I rarely go outside to say hello anymore..."_

Francis probably brings his victims down here in the hospital's body bags.

I think I had some kind of knack for picking up weapons off the ground. I picked up a sharp, stiff metal bar, holding it close to my chest and swallowing. No use backing out now.

The door to this room was stupidly unlocked, and it pulled open easily. But of course. It wasn't like I was a prisoner. He thought I was dead.

_You should never take things for granted, doc, because this might just be the biggest mistake you've ever made._

What was in the room made me want to retch. How often have I wanted to in the past hour? I can't even count it. Anyway, it was awful. There were picture frames hanging from the ceiling, and sitting in a chair was a perfectly still dead body, attached to the ceiling just like the frame. She was pased perfectly, her arms folded delicately an her lap as she formed a half smile.

This body was made to look like a remake of the Mona Lisa.

I had seen something like this before- the living paintings. The only difference was the fact that this was a dead body suspended on wires and tied to a chair. She looked at me with dead eyes, her face a bloody mess as I continues on my way, looking for Francis.

In the distance, I could hear the shrill screeched of a woman in peril. She sounded horrified and disgusted, no doubt the work of Dr. Bonnefoy.

This bastard was going to pay for everything he had done to these people and myself. He probably considered himself quite an artist.

Farther in, there was another poor victim of the mad doctor. She was in a lounging position, and had a large frame displaying her broken form. She was labeled 'Venus'.

Another woman's limp body was positioned in the exact same way as a famous painting. She was labeled, 'Girl with a Pearl Earring'.

The agonizing screams grew louder as I crept toward the room. It gave me a headache, but I couldn't blame the woman for screaming. Someone as awful as Francis tended to strike such fear into people.

Chairs were stacked randomly, upside-down and on top of each other. Doors ripped off their hinges and stained in blood littered the walls. This also must be where he takes evidence of his ventures from his office or elsewhere.

Everything smelled of him, cigarettes, old, moldy cheese, and just plain rot. It was absolutely disgusting.

"I do not need eyes to enjoy your fear!" bellowed a voice in the distance, it sounded like a muffled version of Francis. As if her were wearing a mask. It was horribly crazed, I could almost hear the insane grin doubled with it. He was convinced I was dead and that no one knew about this place. He had just made a big mistake in thinking so highly of himself.

The woman screamed, and I winced as there was the sound of something being beaten horribly. I had to hurry, but I still felt I was missing something.

I continued on.

Another poor victim stuck in a painting was to my left. This one depicted a woman holding a baby in her arms, its condition making the picture look sick and twisted. It was labeled, 'Lady with an Ermine'. The body was quite decomposed already. While real art lasted forever, Doctor's models will soon rot and fall apart. Such a sick man. I wonder how he managed to hide all of this madness.

As I ventured further on the path I had not traveled yet, I thought. It seemed that this place had been closed down for a long time, wherever this was. One day, when they actually demolish it, all the evidence would get buried deep under the piles of rubble.

Lost in my thoughts, I did not look up until I had bumped into something jutting out from the wall.

I moved my eyes to it, and nearly screamed.

Nailed to the wall by his throat with a large, metal bar, much like the one I was holding, was none other than Kiku Honda.

I choked out a gasp instead of a scream, wanting to sob at the pitiful sight of him. His red eyed stared back at me lifelessly, his unusually fair skin turned pallid to the point of it being unnatural. He was stabbed in the exact same places he had been when he had jumped from the roof of the hospital.

But I knew that he had already been dead long before that. He must have come to warn me. I couldn't help but wonder why he tried to get me to jump with him.

Despite this, I at least hoped that he would be able to find some peace in death. I pulled the metal rod from his throat, wincing at the sound it made. Kiku fell limply to the floor with a thud.

Angered, I ripped the key that was hanging from the wall near his body. I spared one last glance at the poor Japanese man, and it gave me the motivation to do what I needed to do.

I went back to the room, and I could still hear the ripping screams of that poor woman.

I gripped the sharp metal pipe in my hands, silently coming just feet away from the twisted Doctor. He was beating the terrorized woman with a blunt object, and to be quite honest, I'm surprised she made it this far.

Her eyes met mine, and I raised a finger to my lips in a way to shush her. She nodded shakily, and Francis momentarily paused. I readied the bar for an attack, and in one swift strike, it ripped clean through Dr. Bonnefoy's throat. Just as he'd done to Kiku.

The French psychopath gurgled and fell to his knees without a word, dropping the pipe he had been holding. He fell completely to the ground, worsening the hole in his neck to a tear.

The woman looked at me with tears in her bloody eyes. I had just saved her life, but I still felt so... well, angry. I removed the gag stuck in her mouth and untied her bounds. She just sat there for a while crying and sobbing.

"Thank you..." she whispered, "Thank you so much... He would've killed me... like the others... that... animal..."

She looked up at me.

"You gave him... what he deserved... Who... are you?"

"It doesn't matter. Forget you ever saw me. Just go. Call the police. Don't mention a word of me to them."

She nodded shakily, standing weakly and hiccuping.

I smiled lightly, "I'm going home."

o

**AN: 28 FUDDERMUCKING PAGES. -dies-**

**This story's rating will be going to M now. I think you can pretty much figure out why.**

**I'm sorry I treated France so horribly. I really love the guy, I do. I don't consider him a bad guy/rapist like most people, but I just figured it would fit a little better than everyone else. As in, art, and the whole being one of Arthur's most hated people and all. **

**So, sorry about this biggun here. I think next chapter might even be longer. **

**I'm also sorry about Japan. I just- he was so sweet and- friendship and...**

**I'm just going to go contemplate the meaning of life while Arthur finally goes home. I wonder how long it took for all of this to happen. One day or...?**

**I do not own The Cat Lady or Hetalia.**


	4. River

**AN: This is my favorite story to write. I don't know why. Maybe it's the fact that I just want to hug all of the 2p characters.**

**Also, I'm sorry, but Kiku and Francis are not coming back (even though Kiku said he would he doesn't hueheuhau he's dead). We will get some new characters here shortly though. You're going to hate me.**

**When reading this story, I highly suggest listening to the soundtrack of The Cat Lady. It's beautiful. My favorites are "Don't You Worry, Love", or "What's the Whole World."**

**I'm not going to hint at the meaning of the river. I was scarcely able to figure it out myself.**

_**Note: This is NOT a yaoi. It's rated M for gore and language. So if you're looking for lemons, go elsewhere. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I'm an avid yaoi fan myself. Trust me.**_

**I do not own Hetalia or The Cat Lady. I'm not anywhere near that awesome.**

**RIVER**

**o**

_Standing by the river I often wonder... do I need a stone? No... my heart is heavy enough. It will drag me down for sure._

_O_

The gray streets, sky, windows and nights were a sight for sore eyes. Rain pattered down ruthlessly, hindering the trees' wavering breeze and tapping on the windows.

I was lucky no one was out at the moment. My blood-stained clothing would surely be a rise for suspicion. The rain helped to rinse me off but it mostly just made me shiver. I couldn't tell if those were raindrops falling down my cheeks or traumatized tears.

I staggered to my building, shakily going inside and finding the door to my flat. I entered, convulsing furiously.

I was finally home, and I'd be safe here. I was sure of it. I wiped little droplets away from my face, flinging them onto the old and run down carpet. First of all, I needed to wash off all the horrible memories of that night. I needed a shower, something to eat, some tea, or a cupcake, perhaps. I would have loved to see my cats as well. I ignored the sticky feeling of blood pinning my shirt to me and pretended that everything was back to normal. I had survived, after all. Maybe now I could enjoy the little things in life. Yes, I could do that. I just needed to take one step at a time. Baby steps.

I entered my bathroom, pulling back the shower curtains and turning on the faucet. I took a long, warm shower, washing away the blood, grime, and memories.

I stepped out after a long while and put on simple beige pants and a nice, comfortable light blue sweater. It was rather big on me and the sleeves could reach past my hands, but that was the last of my worries at the time. I was about to go make a pot of tea when the lights suddenly blinked off.

I jumped when I was suddenly surrounded by darkness, but slowly regained my breath when I realized I had probably just run out of money on the electric meter.

I passed my cabinet, my piano, the spare bedroom, and made my way to my room in search of some loose change. Luckily, there was some on my bedside table. I nearly turned, but blinked as I noticed something else on the table as well. They were official looking papers, some were still inside an envelope. I glared weakly at them when I realized that they were just adding to the collection of bills I couldn't pay.

I turned back, eying the ticking wall clock with the image of a prim and neat Scottish fold sitting nicely. When my gaze returned forward, I gasped.

There was a sinister black figure ahead of me, running rapidly in my direction. I backed away, landing unceremoniously on my bed when there was no more room.

I blinked my blue eyes rapidly, adjusting to the darkness.

There was nothing there. It must have been solely my imagination, nothing more. I was just afraid of my own shadow after these recent events, and the dark was not helping at all.

I shook my head, gathered my wits again, and set out to put more money in the meter to quell my anxieties.

I passed the cabinet again, and looked at its contents a moment. It was mostly just mail, books, and cups. But on the bottom shelf there was a single bottle of wine. It was cheap wine, sure, but alcohol was alcohol. The thin glasses resting next to it were coated in dust, suggesting that they had not been used in a long while. This was true as they hadn't been. I hadn't drank since the time when Alice was around.

I kept walking, finding the electric meter just outside the door to my flat. I inserted the stray coins. That would last for a few days if I remembered to turn the lights off when I leave a room.

I went back in and shut the room behind me. Sitting on the couch, I put my head in my hands and drew out a long, tired sigh. Perhaps I could have just a small moment of rest.

O

_Standing by the river I smile. Will I miss it all? No... I'll be glad to leave it behind... and never come back._

_O_

I couldn't rest. The thoughts kept pounding in my head, bothering me with constant inquisitions and nervousness.

I felt better, at least, from sitting for a while. Perhaps I could find some food. I couldn't even remember the last time I had eaten anything. I was practically starving.

I turned the light off when I left, arriving at the kitchen.

I began to boil water for tea, setting it on the stove with shaky hands. What was wrong with me? I couldn't even describe what I was feeling at that moment. Fear? Grief? Sadness? I didn't know, but it was affecting me horribly.

I opened the refrigerator, still trembling. Inside some plastic-ware was a lonely scone I must have made before the incident. It was cold, moist, and overall unappetizing, but it was really all I had at the moment. Other than some cat food, a half of a carton of milk, and cupcake which I would save for later. I took the old thing and placed it on a paper plate, setting it in the microwave to thaw and warm for 60 seconds. My water was now boiling and I jumped as the pot whistled. Still trembling, I added the tea leaves and let it sit for a while longer. The microwave dinged signaling that I could eat.

I took it out, and I didn't care that it was still rather cool. Breaking my own personal principle of manners, I simply picked it up and dug in. Everything that had happened wore me out and left me starving. As I ate, the horribly jittery feeling did not go away.

My tea was made and I poured myself a cup, not bothering with a saucer that time. I retrieved an old sugar cube, dropping it into the cup and stirring with a plastic spoon. I sat and sipped it slowly, watching the rain cascade little droplets on my kitchen window. This was probably the best cup of tea I had ever made. I should stop taking such things for granted. I sat for a while, shaking and sipping repeatedly until the tea was eventually gone. I left the cup in the sink along with my dishes that desperately needed cleaning, though I didn't bother cleaning them.

I took the cupcake from the fridge, marveling at its wonderful pink frosting and sprinkles. This was a sight for sore eyes too. I left the kitchen, turning the light off along the way. I walked down the dim hallway munching away at my treat, but suddenly stopped short as something dropped my eye. Outside the sliding glass door leading to my balcony rested a bird on the ledge. Not just any bird, though, a crow. My mind flashed to the horrible voice and the ever-moving eye.

I shook that memories away abruptly, realizing that this made me shake twice as much. I put my cupcake on the cabinet ledge, yanking open the door to my balcony. I waved my hand around in a shooing motion despite the rain. The ebony bird did not waver, it only stayed perched there and let out a screeching caw. It just kept staring at me with its evil eye. I needed this bird gone. I knew it was the same one. The one in the woods, and the guillotine, and the theater. This was the same bird. I sped onto the balcony right up to it, swiping and effectively shooing it away. It flew away from me, cawing all the while, almost as if it were mocking me.

I went back inside, shutting the door behind me so the rain would not get inside. I grabbed my cupcake, finishing it off and throwing away the wrapper. I blinked, though, when I saw something else peering at me from inside that cabinet.

An old teddy bear.

I knew where it was from, but I was absolutely certain that I had not put it there. It smiled innocently at me with its adorable little button eyes. Blue. The color of my own, and the color of the eyes of someone I remembered. I loved that color. Sometimes, I would wish that the entire world would have blue eyes, or at least the good individuals. Some people didn't deserve to have eyes the color of wonderful sapphires or the endless sky. All of the bad people could have green. That was what Alice had, green eyes.

I trembled more and glared sullenly at the stuffed bear, opening the cabinet and pulling it out. That darn thing, why did it have to appear so suddenly? There it was, just reminding me of things I'd rather not recall.

I trudged down the hall and barely cracked open the door to the spare bedroom, not wanting to look inside. I tossed the bear in carelessly, shutting the door after I did so.

I observed the paintings lining my walls. Most of them were gifts from old friends who probably didn't even remember me anymore. That had all happened in another life, at another time. Besides, the mere thought of a painting nearly made me sick to my stomach now. I couldn't bring myself to recall that awful man. Though I shook horribly now, I ignored it and looked away from the pictures.

It was almost funny, because one of them I had actually painted myself, and now I couldn't bring myself to give it a glance.

I sat, and tried to give myself another moment of rest, but I still could not sleep and would not stop shaking. So instead I thought.

It would seem that I had finally returned to life before the incident. But there was still no way to restore what had been broken for years. So far, nothing had seemed to go right. Every little thing was against me. Maybe it was just always my destiny to lose everything. And now there were those... Parasites. As if everything wasn't bad enough already. But I had killed Doctor Francis, and saved somebody's life. That wasn't a loss, that was a victory. It felt good when I did that. It had to count for something.

I realized that it was getting awfully late. I thought I could see my cats. In fact, I needed to see them after so long. I needed to see them that night, before I went to bed.

O

_Standing by the river I close my eyes. One jump and I'm there...?_

_No..._

… _Someone jumped after me... He will never be my friend._

_O_

The cats would always play their visit when I played my piano. It was really late, but I could be quiet. I wouldn't disturb the other people in the building. But then again, did I really care whether they got sleep or not?

I stood, and it was a short distance to the piano, as my flat was rather small. I sat on the bench and lifted the cover, gazing at the ebony and ivory keys in excitement.

I took a deep breath, and then my fingers began to dance on the keys slowly, like a beautiful waltz. I closed my eyes, not even needing to look at the keys. I didn't need to look for the cats either. They would come, they always do.

Just as planned, I heard their soft little footsteps against the weak fire escape grates. Funny, the place was so dank and old that even the weight of a cat would make it creak and groan.

I heard them jumping from level to level, and I just kept playing. The poor darlings were probably soaked to the bone. I should have called for them sooner. They were probably even worried about me. I usually summon them very often, and I had been gone for at least 12 hours. Their mewls and meows were fast approaching, and I was able to count about 3 or 4 just by sound. Teacup was always silent, though. I wondered why that was.

I giggled softly and called to them, "Come inside, Loves, I've missed you!"

They meowed loudly now and entered my flat through the open windows. I was accurate on the number of cats there would be. Of course, there was Teacup, the Scottish fold who I've learned to call my best friend. He was always the quiet one of the bunch, rather moody, actually. But deep down I knew he was a sweetheart.

"Oh is that Teacup?" I picked the skinny cat up and cradled him. "After what happened, I bet you thought you'd never see me again!"

I hugged the cat close and nuzzled into his soft fur. He just grumbled out a grumpy meow.

I stood, making my way to the kitchen. "Well, make yourselves at home. Dinner is ready to be served." I put Teacup down gently opening the refrigerator. There were three cans of cat food inside.

Another cat rubbed against my leg, purring loudly like a motorboat. He was large, fluffy, and white with a strange brown ring of fur right around where his collar would be. It was a wonder he was so pudgy for a stray. He meowed loudly, clearly wanting to be fed. I laughed softly at the look in his sweet blue eyes.

I emptied the already open cans into the cat bowls I have constantly set out on the floor. Everyone but Teacup practically leaped to the food, gobbling it up instantly and noisily.

The green-eyed fold sat on the ground without interest in the food, looking up at me curiously. He was the one exception I had to liking green eyes.

I leaned down to him, scratching behind his soft ears. "Why do you never eat my food, Love? Have you already had your dinner?"

I sat on the dirty carpet and he began to reluctantly pur.

"No, I get it. I know. You're a good friend. The best friend I have, really..." I gave him a sad smile. "The only friend in the whole bloody world... You come over to keep me company and want nothing in return. I really appreciate it, you should know." I was still shivering horribly, and I still did not know why. "If you could know what I've been through lately... I've... I've been to hell and back, my boy... But I'm here now. In my flat. Alive... And it's still the same mess that it's always been." I looked down to the ground and trembled. "I'm not sure how to deal with all this anymore. Don't even know if I can."

I breathed in a shaky breath and stood. Teacup stood too, looking up at me with no expression. His orange tail swayed with interest, however.

"I wish I could be like you, at peace with the world, not caring."

I looked into his eyes and he looked into mine. At least, for a moment, I did not care about the world. That is, until there was a sudden knock at my door.

I jumped, not expecting it at all.

"Who could that be so late at night?" I grumbled, stepping over the fuzzy little bodies and making my way to the door. Teacup scurried away somewhere, but hissed before he did so. It set me on edge. The knocks persisted, and eventually turned into pounding.

"Coming!" I called. Really, I just didn't want to step on my cats.

When they heard the knob turning, they all scurried away somewhere along with Teacup.

The person at the door had their back to me, and their arms were folded and their foot was tapping. I stepped outside my flat and closed the door behind me.

The person turned around and sighed angrily. It was the man who lived above me, Roderich. He bad dark, nearly black hair that was just slightly longer than his ears and an odd curl fashioning outward from the top of his head. He wore posh and proper nightclothes and glared at me with copper colored eyes. They twitched in an irritated fashion along with the very noticeable mole on his face.

"Are you out of your mind?" he whispered angrily.

I blinked. "Um...?"

"Do you know what time it is?! We are all absolutely fed up with you and your feline companions!"

My shocked state vanished and I noticed that I was still trembling. The bloody tosser probably thought I was trembling in fear. I questioned him with innocent and wide blue eyes.

Oh... yes, the piano. It must have woken him.

I looked at the ground like a child who had just gotten scolded.

"I'm very sorry... I didn't mean to disturb anyone."

Roderich just continued ranting. "Some of us have to get up early for work. Do you think it's perfectly understandable to make noise at this time of the night?!"

I frowned. "Oh come off it, you're exaggerating. I'm sorry I woke you, but was it necessary to come storming down here like that? I did play the piano, but only for a minute or two."

Roderich fumed and stopped trying to control the volume of his voice. "Enough to wake me! And this is definitely not the first time!" He pointed at me rudely and raised his voice louder than I played the piano. "If this happens again, I assure you will see the pest control stepping in, and it will not be pretty in the least!"

My eyes widened and I shook my head frantically. My friends were certainly not pests.

"I didn't realize it was so late. I won't do it again." I assured.

"Maybe you should invest in a watch then, yeah?! There are other people living here! People with jobs!" His normally pallid face was flushed red with anger. "If this happens again, you _will _see the pest control stepping in. And it will certainly not be pretty!"

"Okay, okay!" I whispered urgently in hopes of not waking anyone else. Honestly, he was probably waking more people than I was with his pretentious whining. "Fine. I'll keep it down. Good night." It took every ounce of my self control not to scream in his face. He was trying to take away the only light I had left in my life.

I simply turned and shut the door behind me, breathing evenly to calm my shivering. Then I heard him say something outside my door.

"Useless cat lover..." Roderich grumbled, clearly wanting me to hear. "They should just lock him up somewhere. Fucking nutcase."

The cats had gone away, even Teacup. I glared madly at where they used to be. This was why I hated people. My trembling was nerve-wracking now. Angry tears streamed down my face.

Ah yes, this was why I had been shivering. I was enraged. I had wanted to die. This was what I had wanted to leave, a life of hopeless nitwits and people with rocks for brains. Everything darkened when the electricity ran out again, and then I lost it.

I put my head in my hands and grit my teeth, letting the hot tears soak into my blue sweater. I paced forward, and back, and forward, and back.

You see, I sometimes have these, well, breakdowns. It comes with mood swings. I was definitely unstable at the time. I was often irrational or dramatic, crying over the littlest things or becoming happy over the strangest of things.

I just kept pacing, panicking, fidgeting, shaking. I usually don't know when these things are going to come about. I would wonder what was the matter with me, why I was shaking, or crying for the longest time. Then something would just set me off. I swear, at that moment, I could have killed Roderich.

Instead, I peered out the window, squeezing my own arms painfully tight. The tears still streamed down my face, and they only angered me even more. What kind of a weak person was I to cry over something like this? I wiped away at them roughly with my long sleeve, shaking my head rapidly and wanting to shake the feeling off. This only made my trembling worse.

I paced again, then stopped in front of my piano. Angrily, I slammed a hand into the keys, probably waking the entire building. Damned if I cared if Roderich didn't get enough sleep. If he had come down again I would have strangled him with my own fucking hands. He couldn't stop me, I was immortal now. Was this what the world wanted? To let some awful person like me live? Well they sure as hell got it! I was here for good and would be angry about it. I wanted to be dead.

I jerked away from the piano and turned to my table. I stared silently at the innocent teacup for a while, just glaring at it intensely.

The instantly, I picked it up, and chucked it against the wall, effectively shattering it to pieces. I just didn't care about shit anymore.

I paced around for a while after that, just sobbing and shaking. Until, finally, _finally_, I collapsed on the sofa into a dreamless, tear-soaked sleep.

Teacup watched me from outside, silently judging me with his green, green eyes. I think he thought I was a nutcase too.

O

_Standing by the river I'm thinking..._

_Will I jump again? No... Behind the closed doors..._

_I have fallen in love with the razor._

_O_

**AN: Wow. A short chapter this was.**

**It was like a chapter of Arthur going around his house and doing housework. It will get better, promise. XD**

**Also, sorry for making Austria a wiener. I thought of making that guy Germany, but no. He's the exterminator. And if you've played The Cat Lady you know that's a bad thing. So Roddy got the better part by far. Oh and he hates piano.**

**Also notice hot Art will start cussing when he's pissed. Mood swings.**

**This was a blessedly short chapter for me, though. I work on things for a long time (several hours at a time) just not very often. If I write a little at a time every day it doesn't turn out as good. So my updates are a little choppy, and I apologize.**

**I do not own Hetalia or The Cat Lady.**


	5. Bullet

**AN: Here comes another whopper chapter.**

**Oh and Alfie too.**

_**In this story, italics usually mean shouting, a phone call, or the beginning of a flashback.**_

**I do not own The Cat Lady, Hetalia, or the designs of the 2p Characters.**

**BULLET**

**O**

On a misty, foggy, eery highway, a van was headed home. The man driving the van was en exterminator who had gotten a call about a cat problem in a small apartment complex somewhere in the old part of town. He'd deal with it tomorrow.

The pest control man, Ludwig, could barely see through his own windows let alone navigate his way to his own house, but even so, he made it. Thick trees surrounded the area completely, almost in a maze. Whenever anyone enters his house, they never leave, and vice versa. He exited his murky white van and stood near an old, splintery brown picket fence that guarded his thoroughly overgrown backyard.

The light of the top room blinked on. Then the other rooms, nearly all simultaneously. He opened the back of his van, and began pulling at the person inside.

O

My heart raced and my eyes snapped open. I hurriedly stood and raced to the wall clock in the shape of a cat, checked the time, and sighed. I had slept all night and most of the day away, so why was I still so tired? I just stared at the ceramic cat's tail swinging back and forth for a moment, but was startled from my daydream when I heard the abrupt knocking at my door. I really hoped it wasn't Roderich again, but if it was, he would just be even more angry if I did not answer. With my eyes downcast, I left the room and headed to the door.

As I ventured through my flat, they just kept knocking. "Coming..." I said softly, but I doubt they heard me. The knocking was actually beginning to come more often and louder, as if the person on the other side desperately needed to come in.

I opened the door and came face to face with a rather odd looking man. He sighed when I opened the door, seeming relieved. His red eyes looked down at me a little widely behind square-framed glasses. He had dark brown, almost red hair with a stubborn little cowlick sticking up, though the rest didn't really look any neater. He wore all black things, save for a brown, leather jacket and a silver chain around his neck.

He smiled a boyish, wry smile in my direction.

"Heya Mr. K. Feelin' better?"

I also noted that he was American, or at least, he had the accent.

I looked up at him tiredly. "Do I know you?"

"Oh, right, ya don't 'member me, huh. I'm Alfred, but just call me Al, man." he paused in thought, "Met you a few days ago. You were out cold. Those drugs you took must'a been pretty strong." Alfred, or Al, laughed. "You 'probly had one too many of 'em."

My mind instantly flared up at this. So this was the mysterious person who saved me? Hadn't Kiku said that the guy who saved me said they were my son?

I'm guessing I looked pretty shocked, because he stopped smiling and looked down at me seriously.

"Oh, so it's you." I said. "I had a feeling you'd turn up here sooner or later."

"Yup. S'me. The dude who got in the way and fucked everything up. I get it if yer' mad at me. It wouldn't surprise me if ya blamed me. But I had my reasons for saving your ass. S'a little personal, though. There's somethin' important, though. I came here the other day to talk to ya."

I gave him a puzzled look. He was being very vague and talking in riddles, and at the time my muddled mind probably couldn't even spell the word 'cat'.

"Why would you want to talk to me?" I muttered groggily. "That doesn't make sense."

"Saw the ad you put up. Ya got a room to rent?"

Yes, I put an ad in the paper asking for a roommate, but that was months ago. I didn't think they'd still be showing it.

"I... They still print that? It was months ago... No one called. I forgot all about it. Gave up on it, actually."

I hated to disappoint the lad, but a roommate was probably the last thing I needed right now. It would seem that Al did not get the hint.

"So's I was wonderin' if I could rent out that room, Mr. K."

"But I-"

"You got the room, I got the money. Can we just leave it at that?" He looked at me hopefully. "I'll keep it clean, promise. I won't make a peep 'neither. Oh, and I won't take forever in the bathroom."

"I don't really-"

He interrupted me again.

"Oh and I read your suicide note."

I blanched, but he just kept talking.

"Sorry, but I did. I get it that ya like bein' alone, you don't like people, I get it. I'm the same way."

Surely he must be joking. He seemed like the type of guy who had connections and friends everywhere, not some social hermit like me. He also never stopped talking in that awfully smug way.

"Won't get in the way. I'll give ya your space. Ya won't even know I'm here, promise."

He was promising a lot of things, but I was still just shell-shocked at the idea of gaining a companion after all this. It was the last thing I needed and it was rather blunt and sudden.

"So whaddya say? Deal?"

I averted my eyes and stared at a rather interesting speck of dirt on the ground. His expectant gaze was burning a hole into my forehead, and I knew I had to reject the poor lad at some point. But to my surprise, I didn't. I gave it a chance.

"Well... I guess I could do with more money... but..." I trailed off and swayed on my feet, but I looked him in the eyes again.

"Great, can I come in?"

I figured he wouldn't take no for an answer. Reluctantly, I let him in my flat. I was just waiting for him to take one look at the place and leave.

We entered, and I shut the door behind us. He looked around at the chipping walls, the dipping doors, and the carpet filled with cat hair. His expression was a complete poker face, I couldn't tell what he was thinking, but he wasn't leaving.

I blurted it out without even thinking.

"Uh, you said you were my son at the hospital? Why would you lie about that? How can I trust you?" I paused then added as a rude afterthought. "How should I know you won't slit my throat when I sleep?"

He looked at me, stunned, then shook off his surprise.

"Jesus, what's your problem? Slit your throat? Are you always this suspicious of people? If I wanted to, I wouldn't have saved ya! Just think for a sec. I was trying not to get asked a bunch of stupid questions. Didn't know what else to say. Seemed like an easy choice, and if I hadn't I couldn't have gone in the ambulance with ya. … Which is a 'lil weird, yeah, but I just wanted to see if you made it."

He put his hands in his pockets and gave me a big, innocent look. I almost believed it, but didn't. Choosing to rid us of that topic for now, I yawned and rubbed at my tired eyes.

"This spare room I have is pretty bad, you should know..." I murmured sleepily.

"Yeah, I don't really care. I'll be here just a few weeks. Anythin's better than what I got now."

"Which is?"

"Slept on a bench last night."

Oh.

So he had nowhere, then? Well wouldn't that just make me a horrible person to turn him down. He continued.

"There's a dude there who talks to rats and shit. In that park."

"Wait," I realized, "can you even afford rent for the room?"

"Yup." his boyish grin was back again, "I'll pay ya for two months now if ya want. Money ain't an issue."

"Why not just go to a hotel?"

"Hate hotels." Al grimaced.

"More than random parks? With... homeless weirdos... and rats?"

"Oh, the rat guy? Nah, nah he's cool. He's all right. Kept the rats away from me too."

I could have facepalmed at that, but to protect my sanity and took a deep breath and continued.

"How did you get in here that night anyway? I locked the door, I know I did..."

"Well..." Al nervously rubbed at the back of his neck, shifting his scarlet eyes to look at a dusty painting hanging on my wall. After a while he looked back at me sheepishly. "I guess I'll tell ya. You won't like it, but I'll tell ya." he looked to the ground as if in shame. "Picked the lock."

"... You did what?"

He shuffled on his feet as if he were a child being lectured. "I know it sounds real bad, I'm not a bad guy, I promise. Trust me. Dad was a locksmith. He knew all about 'em. Taught me some of his stuff, like how to pick 'em. Got this little box thing too for picking 'em. Always have it with me. They're pretty expensive, got 'em made special for me. It's all I really got left of him, so..."

"I see... But... you know, it sounds rather like your father was really a burglar, not a locksmith."

Al shook his head slowly, looking dismally at the ground.

"Does it matter?" he grumbled.

"I guess it doesn't, but what gave you the idea that you can pick the lock on my front door and just barge in uninvited?" I questioned.

"Heard the cats." he said matter-of-factly. "They were goin' nuts. It sounded like all hell broke loose in here. Man, the sound they made... it kind of sounded like a ghost, ya know? Then..." he shuddered, "then, it kinda turned into... a person crying. Anyway, I kept bangin' on the door but you were sleeping I guess, in a coma, whatever. Pulled out a C-rake and got the door open. Guess ya could say I had a hunch."

"A hunch... great..."

"Had a hunch somethin' was wrong. Wasn't a mistake though, huh."

I frowned at him. Why couldn't he have just let me die?

"Why do you want this room so much?" I asked honestly wanting to know. "Let's face it. This flat's falling apart. It's cold. It's dark. It's a bit moldy. This is the old part of town where nothing ever happens. It's far from the city center and there are only two buses going through here, and that's if you're lucky. Also, I'm known around here as a pretty, uh, unstable guy." I laughed mirthlessly. "I bet they;d burn me at the stake if they could. They'd put me in a bag and drown me in the river like a litter of kittens. I'm not exactly great company for a young lad like yourself."

"Uh... who's 'they'?"

"People... just... people." I leaned against the dusty wall.

"Listen Mr. K, I don't really give a fuck about people."

I was startled into looking up at Al, who wore a determined expression. Then he smiled at me. "I don't give a fuck about people, but I do like cats. Think they'll smell the rats on me? Man I need a shower..."

I returned his smile, albeit a bit awkwardly.

"Okay, Al, but I'm sure you'll change your mind when you see the room."

"Aw c'mon, I doubt it's so bad."

"The window is stuck and it doesn't shut properly."

"S'fine, I like fresh air."

"There's clutter everywhere."

"I can clean it."

"It's got a funny smell."

"I'll just burn some candles."

"Fine..." I sighed and ended the argument, "I give up. Follow me. You an see it for yourself, since you're so stubborn."

With that I swiftly turned around, heading down the decrepit hall of my flat to the spare room, Al following behind me. I opened the door, and he entered the room before me. I had placed a rickety old bed inside, as well as a box that would need to work as a bedside table. There were other boxes everywhere inside the room, filled with random things. The window was, as promised, permanently open, and the curtains swayed dramatically through the room. They were large enough to be irritating. My gaze fell from the window to the discarded teddy bear lying on the ground, its blue button eyes gazed right back at me.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Al said. "It seems fine to me."

"Really?" I drawled. "What about all the boxes?"

"I'll just move it, if you're okay with that. Most of it I could probably use though. All I really need is a bed to sleep n' a roof over my head. … Oh, and an outlet, so I can charge my laptop. Oh and a bathroom. You got a shower, yeah? I need one real bad."

I hadn't even given him a formal answer yet, and he already sounded as if he were moving in. But did I really care?

"You mentioned some personal reasons for staying here?" I questioned.

"... Oh, yeah. S'a long story though, don't wanna bug ya with that personal crap."

"Okay, in that case could you give me the short version?"

"Uh, sure... I'm lookin' for a guy. Well I don't really know him... But he's a... friend of a friend. Only ever talked to him online, so I don't even know what he looks like, but I know my way around a computer. Managed to track him down. He lives in this building somewhere. Don't know what apartment though, there are eight in the place. He's in one of 'em, and I just gotta find out which one. Shouldn't be too tough."

"What do you want from this person?"

"Just wanna talk to him. He did somethin'... somethin'g bad, real bad. Just wanna talk to him to feel better."

I had a hard time believing that. Al didn't look like the guy you wanted to come across in a dark alley, and the dark, angry look on his face he had when he spoke about this man almost frightened me.

"Just talk? Are you sure?" I said hesitantly.

"Yeah. Wanna meet face to face. That's all."

I was still hung up on how I realized how threatening he looked. He seemed friendly enough to me, but who knows what someone like him could do when angry. I fiddled at the sleeves of my blue sweater as I watched him look around the room. His red eyes looked like they could burn a hole in someone if provoked. Suddenly I felt a little scared to have this man in my home.

"You're not in some kind of trouble, are you?"

He groaned. "Oh here we go again. Do I really look _that _scary? Everyone says I look like some kind'a serial killer."

"I don't know..." I stammered. "What do serial killers usually look like anyway?"

"Oh, ya know, scar on their face, eye patch, beard. That stuff."

I snorted and snickered under my breath.

"That's a pirate you've just described. Just add a wooden peg leg and we've got the full picture. But who knows, I'm no expert on murderers." _Not yet anyway..._

"So if you're not in trouble," I continued. "Are you in some kind of gang?"

"Please." he said, clearly exasperated. "Please don't even go there. Nah, this is just... how I look, I dunno. I'm, uh, a lone wolf, yeah."

… _Right._

"Okay... Clearly a sensitive subject for you."

"People seem to think just 'cause a guy looks a little scary, he actually is. You can't just judge a guy like that, I mean, look at you. You look like a little kid ready to go to a friggin' tea party and here you are givin' me glares and frowns like you wanna kick me into next Wednesday."

"... This is just how I dress."

"Exactly."

Well, he certainly had a point there.

"Is there anyone I can contact for references about you?"

"Er... I've never really done this before, so not really. Lived with mom my whole life, 'til about now at least."

"I could give her a call?"

He seemed to ignore the notion and just kept fiddling with the random junk I had laying around the room, but his red eyes portrayed a different picture. He seemed so sad.

After a bout of silence, he looked me in the eyes behind his glasses.

"Yeah, sure. That would be fine... I guess. Ya know... Ya've been askin' me all these questions, and I never had a chance to ask about, well, how you're doing after _that _happened. I mean... that must'a been bad. You're lucky you're alive. It's probably not my place to ask, but... why did you try to kill yourself, Mr. K?" After a while he whispered, "What made you do that?"

This had caught me off guard. So I just took the sarcastic route.

"Long story. Won't bore you with this personal crap." I quoted.

"Oh hardy har har. Right back at me, huh. I gave ya the short version though."

"Yes, but somehow I can't help the feeling that you've omitted a few important facts."

"Just a few..." he whined. "Never mind, I guess your story can't be shortened anyway. Still, if ya feel like talkin' about it, I'll listen."

I grimaced, then smiled a little sadly.

"I'll bear that in mind, Al."

There was a pregnant and awkward pause.

"L-let's go back to the living room." I stuttered.

He wordlessly moved past me and out of the spare room, and turned around to face me, just standing in the middle of the hallway.

"Room's awesome. So, whaddya say, Mr. K?"

To my own surprise I was going to answer in the positive and say yes. Perhaps I needed a companion, if only for a short while, and Al seemed friendly enough. He didn't seem to have a problem with my oddities either, sort of a 'no questions asked' kind of guy. His red eyes gleamed at me expectantly, and I opened my mouth to say yes, but was halted at the sight of something, perhaps a little small, moving behind the American.

The first thing I noticed were the gentle, lavender eyes. The tall man was lazily strolling up behind Al with his hands in his red pockets, smiling at me mockingly, as if he were saying _I told you so._

It was Matthew.

He gave me this lazy smile from behind Alfred, as if he were just waiting in anticipation for my answer. I choked on my own words at the sight of my own inner demons coming to life, and shook my head slowly. Al was becoming concerned at the odd display, I don't think he had noticed Matthew, or perhaps he couldn't even see him. **(AN: See what I did there?)**

"... Uh, Mr. K?"

My heart pounded wildly in my chest, and surely this just amused Matthew all the more. He began to giggle childishly, but I could not hear him, only see him.

I backed away from them slowly, my back hitting my own bedroom door. I put a hand over my face in a vain attempt to rid the sweat that was gathering there, but to no avail. Alfred looked at me worriedly, tilting his head to the side.

"You okay there-"

"_Go away."_ I said harshly. "_You have to leave. Right. Now."_

"But... Mr. K, what's wrong?"

"You're not safe here." I whispered, staring into Matthew's wickedly amused eyes. "You should leace. Now."

"Uh... please, though, I really wanna stay... don't throw me out now after getting my hopes up..."

"_Well you can't stay!" _I was near hysterical now, and I'm sure my wide eyes were a comical sight. _You can't!" _I screeched, then calmed. "If you don't go, something terrible is going to happen to you. Please, just leave, right now. I was perfectly fine before you came, I had gotten away from all that... I have my cats... I have... I..._ Just stay away from me!"_

Alfred looked frightened, very frightened at my odd behavior. Matthew faded away behind him, and he was no longer there, but his image burned inside my mind still was. I had gotten away from all this, the parasites and all of that business, I mean. The last thing I ever wanted to happen would be a repeat of the Francis incident. But what did Al have to do with any of that?

"W-what..." he said, pitifully confused.

"_Are you deaf? Did I not make myself clear? This is not a good place for you!"_

"Where am I gonna go?... It's late, and it's pouring out there. I'll leave in the morning if you want, but-"

"_I don't give a damn where you go! You can go back to the bloody park for all I care! Anywhere... _Anywhere but here..."

I glared what I hoped were icy blue daggers at him, and I think he succeeded as he began to back away with wide eyes.

"I knew you were one of them." I ground out harshly. _"I knew it!"_

"What're you even talking about... Look, just relax, everything's okay..."

I didn't listen, I just kept going on in a crazed, out of control rant.

"_But why you? Why would you want to do this to me? You have no reason!"_

"Calm down... I'm not gonna do anything, okay? I just want to rent a room. Nothing else. I promise. Damn, I even swear. I won't cause any trouble, okay? Just breathe and explain to me what the fuck is going on, because I am very confused right now."

He looked at me sadly. The way he would fiddle with his hands as if he were some kind of awful burden, as if he really, truly didn't want to cause any trouble at all. His red eyes were wide, honest, and I realized that he wasn't lying to me, and that meant something else entirely, judging by Matthew's sudden appearance.

"The... maybe... Oh, no..." I whispered. "No... No."

_Silence._

"You're going to die."

He gave a strangled and audible gasp, but it didn't sound overly surprised. It was as if he were surprised that I had said it other than what I had said itself, as if it were just some taboo word. He averted his eyes from me, and began to shake.

"I know." he said. "Yeah... I know."

I'm rather sure I was gaping like a dead fish, mostly in confusion.

" I know." he said again, "but how did _you _know, Mr. K? Are you some kind'a psychic? Got some kind of supernatural mind-reading stuff? Or is it just that fucking obvious?..."

He was glaring fiery hot daggers at me, matching my previous icy cold ones. He didn't seem angry, though. Just... sad.

"What do you mean?" I practically whispered. "I... I don't know _how _you're going to die... but... it's a hunch..."

"That's cool. A hunch." He nodded sarcastically. "Well I do. I know exactly. I already am dying, actually. Mr. K... this isn't even my real hair."

o

"Time to wake up." A heavily accented and muffled voice greeted me. He sounded German.

I cracked open an eye but winced, and found that I was unable to speak. There was dirty cloth tied around my head and into my mouth preventing me from speaking. My hands were tied as well as my legs, and I was just curled up in an awkward position in a filthy room. I felt something wet pooling below me, and looking down dizzily revealed that the entire floor, and some of the wall above it, was red. I would have gasped had I been able to. My eyes adjusted to the room and I found that it was a sterile white, other than the floor pooling with blood, certainly not mine, as well as a few haphazard splatters of the substance on the wall. There were also some smeared hand prints on the wall, suggesting a struggle. I knew that it was no my blood, though.

The men kneeling before me wore a gas mask. I could see nothing of him, and all I could hear was his deep, accented voice that I instantly hated.

"You looked like you were having a nightmare." he said.

He was also wearing a sterile white lab coat, the same color as the white part of the walls.

My mind was leaving the haze of being unconscious steadily, but too slow in my opinion. My obvious instincts told me that I needed to leave this place, and quick.

I struggled weakly and grunted through the makeshift gag but it was futile. The man just watched me through his gas mask without saying a word. The only inkling I could gather of him was of pure, cold apathy. My vision blurred again and I cursed my own weakness. I couldn't remember at that time how I'd gotten there in the first place. Last thing I remembered, I was in my flat, yelling at a dying American who wanted to be my roommate.

My heart pounded in my chest as I realized that I had been kidnapped. I don't know how it happened, or where I was, but if the blood pooling in the room was anything to go by I was in a colossal amount of danger.

The man reached a hand forward and removed the cloth from my mouth.

"Touch me and I'll kill you." I instantly growled. "I mean it. You have no idea who I am."

His gravelly voice came from the gas mask. "You're just a crazy lunatic, that's all you are."

I was beginning to regain my strength. I struggled harder against the bonds but it only succeeded in giving me stinging rope burns.

"Soon I'll be the crazy lunatic who blew your brains out all over these walls, lad." I was panicking, but I refused to show it. "It's not long now before-"

"_What's going on in there?"_

An airy voice came from the next room over. The door jostled for a while, as if the person on the other end had forgotten how to open it.

The man in front of me turned to the door and stood. After a bit of struggling, the door creaked open and in walked another person. This one was wearing a black dress shirt without a tie, and black pants to match. He had dark brown hair and very pale red eyes, almost a rose color. There was an odd spiraling curl of hair coming from the left side of his head. I wondered how that was even possible.

He was smaller than the man in the lab coat, and his pink eyes moved to me struggling silently.

"Who's this?" he said. "Did you catch another one, Luddy? I told you we had enough for now..."

'Luddy' grunted in dismissal. "He'll just be joining us for dinner, that's all."

The rose-eyed man eyed me with hidden distaste, then looked at the man with the mask.

"I don't like it when you talk to me with the mask on, Ludwig... Just put it back in the van, so you don't lose it again."

"Okay, okay." he agreed shakily. It seemed that this Ludwig feared the other man in an odd way. He took of the mask and held it in his hands. He had pallid blonde hair that was slicked back, and disarming and dark lavender eyes that were nearly the same shade as the other. He also had a small scar on his left cheek. It looked like just a scratch or cut that didn't heal properly.

His gruff voice shook. "I was just saying that he's here for dinner, Feliciano."

"Good, dinner, I'm starving~!"

Feliciano giggled like a little boy. "Can the cats go too? They won't stop making so much noise!"

_Cats...? _Oh yes, pest control. I was beginning to gain an inkling as to what happened. I struggled more in the restraints. Ludwig nodded to Feli and left the room, leaving me and the assumed Italian alone. His smiled was gone when the German had left and he approached me with the same apathy I had felt before.

"I told him not to bring any more..." he whined like a child.

"Who the fuck are you-" I began to say, but was cut off.

"_Shut up." _Feliciano looked down at me with cold, pure, yet childish hatred. "You can see it, can't you?"

I mirrored with hate filled expression.

He clarified. "You can see this room and all the blood."

I nodded slowly.

"You can see it with those big, blue eyes." he shuffled around the room, opening this cabinet and the next. "If you get out of here, which you won't, you'll tattle on Luddy and I. I don't want that to happen, I like being here."

The scarily childish man produced something from the cabinet, but I could not see it as he methodically kept it hidden behind him.

Feliciano giggled. "I always keep this bottle handy, for people like you. It's bleach." he brought it out from behind his back. "The strongest you can get..."

I was beginning to grow desperate as I could clearly see where this was going. I struggled and the burns on my wrists began to bleed, but I didn't mind it, anything was better than what the Italian was about to dish out. He crawled to me with the bottle, unfazed by the blood sloshing below his hands and knees.

"You give me no choice." he whispered feverishly. "I can't risk losing him... I have to make sure you can't see it, so you can't tell. You can't tell anyone, okay?"

Feliciano sat in front of me with a splash. He simpered and dangled the bottle in front of me before opening it.

I began to cry. I knew I'd live through it, I had lived through Francis stabbing me for crying out loud, but I also knew this would hurt horribly.

"You won't need those eyes." he whispered. "Or that face much longer anyway."

He suddenly shoved my head against the corner of the wall with alarming strength, I was helpless again what he was about to do. I was tilted upward, saw the bottle appear, and then the horrible burning started. I wouldn't let myself scream, I just whimpered and cried, but tears wouldn't come out. He emptied every last ounce of that bottle onto my face. The burning spread throughout my entire body, not just my face or my eyes. It was like it attacked my veins and ran through them, all of them, everywhere. I couldn't see a thing anymore.

When the bottle of putrid acid was thankfully empty, I heard Feliciano carelessly throw it over his shoulder and it landed with a sickening splash.

I had stopped struggling at that point, frozen in my own pain.

I heard him stand. "If you want something done right, you do it yourself."

The Italian sadist walked away with a splash in his step, and I heard the door creak close as I was left in my own silence. Now all I could do was wait.

O

Teacup cried out uselessly from his crate. The poor cat didn't like this room, not one bit. It smelled of bad things and there were puddles of something everywhere. He hissed down at the ground where all of his other feline companions were being kept in separate crates, but were doing nothing.

The fold could feel that something was clearly amiss a few rooms over. He felt that something bad was happening to his master, he just didn't know what.

Lucky for him he was on top of a large, metal cabinet, which meant that if he were able to get the crate to fall, it may bust open.

He reared back and hit the front of the crate. It budged. He did it again, and again, and again, until the crate finally fell from the cabinet and he was instantly swept to the ground. The door thankfully busted open and Teacup emerged. He hissed at his idiotic companions once more, one of which was shaking in the corner of his cage and gazing at the fold with guilty blue eyes.

Teacup jumped on top of the other cat's crate and onto the cabinet again with a flying leap. He jjmped through a few vents and dodged some furniture, and eventually found himself in a room that was absolutely pooling with that same icky gush from before. He whined distastefully at the prospect of his paws becoming dirty, but kept going at the sight of his pitiful master, who was hunched in a corner hiding his face. Either he was unconscious or he didn't notice Teacup enter the room through the open vent.

The feline pawed nervously on Arthur's arm, but received no response other than trembling. Knowing he would need to find some other solution, the spotted can jumped through yet another vent, this one higher and closer to the ceiling. He pawed off the grimy and stinky liquid once inside the vent and made his was through. The tip of his tail brushed against the cool metal on top of the vent as he trotted through the chilly tunnel. Curse that man who came to their home, the damn pest control guy. How dare he hurt his master so.

O

Ludwig entered the room again. I knew it was him by the heavy noise and splash of his step. I couldn't see him, but I knew he was there. I didn't acknowledge him and just kept to my convulsions as I ducked my head into the cooling shade to ease the burn.

"I see Feli brought the bleach... again."

Silence.

"He does that every time."

More silence.

"I'm going to be honest here, you look like shit."

I would have given him the finger if I wasn't in so much excruciating pain.

"But I don't want you to think I'm a bad person."

Too late for that, chap.

"There is plenty of time until dinner, and you're in a lot of pain, so... I brought you something. To end your suffering."

I hear more sloshing footsteps and the sound of something being placed on a shelf I couldn't reach.

"Think of it as an option. It's a gun. One of my favorites. There's only one bullet in the chamber. Large caliber. You'd be long dead before you'd feel any pain from it."

He backed away from me.

"It's just an idea. No pressure. But wait, you can't see it. Feli's bleach burned your eyes to jelly."

Ludwig laughed at me mockingly.

"Feel free to use it. That bullet's meant for you anyway."

There was a noise from the other room, and I heard his sloshing footsteps move away.

"I have to leave now."

He began to leave the room, but before he left completely he turned to me again.

"Can't reach it?" he paused for a moment. "Well what did you expect? Life's a real fucker sometimes."

And with that he left, shutting the door behind him.

O

Teacup emerged from the vent, landing on a splintery wooden shelf. Dangling on a hook next to the shelf was a large assortment of knives. He pawed at one for a while until it fell onto the shelf, then he picked it up in his mouth and carried it that way. Turning around again, he planned to leave through the same vent he came in, but instead skirted into the corner of the shelf when he heard the door open.

Ludwig entered and sat down on an old chair, picking up the large gun he had near the chair. He began to polish it with a dirty cloth and was concentrating very hard on doing so. He looked down and Teacup took his chance to, as quietly as he could, race back to the vent.

He jumped back inside the safety and darkness, quickly fleeing from that room.

He made it back to the room where his master was, still shaking and hiding in that corner. Teacup pawed at him again, and this time touched his hand with the cool metal of the knife.

O

I gasped.

"What... who's... this?" I whispered. "I can't... I can't see a thing..."

I looked up at nothing. A piece of cool metal was dropped into my hand, a little wet in some places.

"A key? Who... who are you... say something!"

I received no answer.

"I... I'll just cut the ropes then..."

I put the blade in my mouth and began waring away at the ties around my wrists, and soon, they came undone. Then I used my hands to cut the ropes around my ankles and stood shakily, still feeling every ounce of burning on my eyes, but much less intense than before.

My footsteps sloshed in the pool of blood below me and I was barely able to keep from being sick. I felt around on the shelves to steady myself as I had no idea where I was going or which direction I was facing. They say blind people are able to pinpoint where they are with just sound and touch, but it must have been an experience thing, because I had no idea.

My hand brushed against something cool on one of the shelves and I gasped. That idiot had left his gun. I took it in my hand, still trembling awfully.

I was immortal, right? What would happen if I were to shoot myself, right here, right now? Perhaps I would awaken and be perfectly normal. That was what had happened with Francis, so could it happen here, too? I hoped so. My options were certainly very limited at the moment.

I raised it to my head and felt disgusted about what I was about to do.

Then I remembered. I remembered how I got here.

"Sorry, Al." I said aloud to no one but myself. "I have to break my promise."

My heart beat wildly in my chest and, after several round of counting to ten, I pulled the trigger.

O

_Earlier..._

"You are dead."

The poster reads it bluntly, now newly hung on the wall of my spare room. There's an odd picture of a man with his spirit leaving his body through his back.

"Hope ya don't mind creepy posters." Al said from behind me.

"It's your room now. You can do what you like with it." I replied. "Did you make these?"

The rain pattered hard against the window, some of it sneaking in through the permanently open space.

Al sighed. "No... My sister made them... Some of them, anyway."

He smiled at me sadly, then lightened up.

"So, Artie-"

"Don't call me that."

"- I happen to have a bottle of wine in my bag. Was gonna leave it to the rat guy but forgot all about it."

I nodded, not quite sure where this was going.

"Wanna have a drink? I mean, I know I said I wouldn't get in your way, and ya don't have to if ya don't wanna, but... since we're gonna live together for a while..."

I studied him for a moment. "Yeah," I said. "That's okay, I guess."

"Awesome. I'll go get it."

He zipped open his bag which was sitting on the spare bed and pulled out a bottle of cheap looking red wine. Then he cussed under his breath.

"Oh, damn... It's one of those with a cork... Got a bottle opener?"

"In the kitchen. I'll go get it."

"Oh and some glasses."

I nodded and left the room, shutting the door behind me. In the kitchen was my bottle opener, which I took with me, and there were still those dusty glasses I had in the china cabinet. The rain was beginning to simmer into a drizzle.

I took the glasses from the cabinet and dusted them off a little, then headed back to the spare room. The glasses were still rather nice, after all these years.

I opened the door and re-entered the room.

We opened the bottle.

"Oh, and Artie?"

"... What?"

"I promise I won't cut your throat when you sleep like you said I would."

"Oh, _very _funny." I simpered.

"No, no, I mean it!"

"That's fine." I sighed. "But just so you know, I always sleep with my eyes open."

o

He had sat on the edge of my balcony. I warned him about it being dangerous, but just shrugged and said he'd been through worse. The rain had stopped and now it was just foggy and gray. The bottle of wine was sat beside him on the ledge, only a fourth of it was left.

"So, um..." I began. "The big C word... Want to talk about it?"

He glanced at me over his shoulder, and moved so that he was sitting inward instead of outward. At least he was less likely to fall that way.

"Honestly, I didn't really wanna tell ya 'bout that. Put ya in a hard position, I know. I just... I really wanted to get this room. Hope ya understand. This is just the... well, it's the last thing I have to do... before I go."

"It's fine." I assured. "You seem alright. It's just..."

I moved beside him near the ledge, but instead of sitting on it like him, I just looked out over the thickening fog.

"... I find it hard to trust people these days." I continued. "Maybe it's time I opened my eyes to see others have problems too. Some, like yourself, even bigger than mine."

He nodded.

"What kind of cancer is it?" I asked. "Do you mind me asking?"

"Brain tumor. Name's... uh... globia-somethin'."

"Glioblastoma?"

"Yep."

"I used to be a nurse. I know a few things about cancer... and I know glioblastoma, it's awful."

"Yeah..."

There was a bout of silence as a chilling breeze blew past us. I watched on as the fog kept growing.

"How long?" I said quietly.

"They said I had a year. … But that was six months ago... so... yeah. Not long."

"Is there anything-"

"No. They tried."

More silence.  
"I'm sorry."

"Yeah." he nodded, fixing his glasses and looking behind himself at the old city streets. "So am I. Can we talk about something else?"

I quickly nodded, needing a change of subject myself. Al seemed like the kind of person who didn't deserve such horrible things.

"How are you planning to find this guy?" I asked.

"Dunno yet. Bit of detective work? Shouldn't be hard, only eight apartments. One's yours, so that leaves seven. Was hopin' you could give me a hand, actually. You know some of your neighbors, right?"

"Not many." I shook me head. "I never really cared about them. They changed over the years, too. You probably also figured by now that this is not the sort of place where new neighbors are greeted with a freshly baked cake... You see a new face, you give them a blank stare as you pass them in the hall and you forget about them a minute later."

"That bad, huh? You don't seem like the kind of person to like this place."

I laughed. "Never said I did. There's that pompous guy who lives above me in flat 5. He came here recently to shout in my face. He's a nasty piece of work but I really don't think he's the person you're looking for."

This piqued Al's interest.

"What does he do for work?"

"I think he's a train driver."

He snorted. "Can't imagine somehow that the guy I'm looking for would be a train driver. Okay, good. Leaves us with six. Anyone else?"

"I'd have to think." I murmured.

"Ya know what? Not tonight. Let's talk about somethin' else, 'kay? I have plenty of time, no need to rush it. Maybe tomorrow we can plan. Figure out who lives where."

"Sounds fine to me, Al."

The fog was becoming rather thick around us, it felt like you could cut through it with a knife.

"It's not raining anymore." I noted.

"Don't mind the rain so much. At least it cools ya down. It's too foggy now though. I hate fog." he yawned hugely, then continued. "Got lost in the fog once, was nine or ten. Remember sittin' under a tree and crying like a baby, thought some monster was gonna pop up."

I patted his shoulder sarcastically.

"But now that you're big you know there are no monsters."

He looked me in the eye.

"Yeah? How do you know?"

I blinked up at him, not expecting that answer but rather a cynical laugh. I looked right back at his eyes gazing into me.

"The only monsters are us." I said. "Murderers, rapists, arsonists... They're the real beasts. So far from humanity they're no longer capable of feeling compassion or guilt. They're the ones we should really be afraid of. But whether they're lurking in the woods... or fog... or the darkness of our cellars... it's all irrelevant. You can't predict what happens. You can't do anything to stop it."

I gained an ounce of bravery and hopped up on the ledge, sitting beside him.

"There is only one way... you turn into a beast yourself." I said quietly. "And like them, you show no mercy."

"Whoa!" he laughed, looking at me with wide humorous eyes. "Where'd that come from, Artie?"

"Just don't like murderers." I growled, thinking of Francis' horrible smell. "They're nothing but... parasites."

If Matthew were still there, I was sure he would've been sneering in my face.

Al was beginning to look a little frightened, so I lightened up.

"You mentioned a sister? Tell me something about her."

He laughed darkly. "Yeah okay. Let's talk about her. Name's Amelia. She's dead."

"Oh..." I replied uselessly.

He sighed and looked at me seriously.

"Artie, you sure you wanna listen about my shitty life? Don't wanna bring ya down or nothin'. They ain't happy stories."

"And I'm not a happy stories kind of person. I'm sure you've noticed by now."

"I guess, I mean, you sure look like one, but ya aren't."

I would have laughed if the atmosphere wasn't so tense.

"Guess I'd have to tell ya 'bout her sooner or later. She's the reason I'm here. Just dunno where to start... We... well, we were like twins, I guess. Never had many friends 'cause I had her. If there's one thing I'm thankful for about life, it's that I got such an awesome sister. Guess I got lucky. But luck runs out sometimes..."

"How did she take the news about your cancer?"

"Thought I was joking at first. She laughed. Then she got real mad... I said I was serious, but she wouldn't believe me. Had a big fight that day. It was our only fight, but it was really bad. She smashed some things with my bat. It was actually kinda funny to watch, but... she was really furious. She walked out of the house that night and when she came back the next day, she was different. Begged me to try surgery and chemo... I didn't want 'em... But I did the chemo for her. It didn't help. Just made me feel sick. It was like nothing that happened was real anymore, ya know?"

I nodded, but I didn't really understand.

"Maybe that's why I didn't see what my cancer was doing to her. Was hurtin' her too. She changed. Got obsessed with, uh... well, with death. It was all she thought about, even though it was me, not her, who was dyin'."

He stopped there, but I was becoming rather interested in his tale. He said Amelia had died, right? I was still left in the dark.

"How did she die?" I prodded. "How did Amelia die?"

I poured myself more wine and settled on the ledge, crossing my legs in such a dangerous position. It probably looked a little funny.

"She was so... I dunno, out there, the last few weeks before... before she died. Didn't know she kept looking for something... I don't she knew what she was looking for anyway... But she didn't have to look, it found her. _He _found her. There're those forums online about a bunch of stuff. Games, gambling, addictions... everything. Amelia accidentally stumbled upon one about suicide. There was a guy there. Calls himself 'Eye of Adam', whatever that means. He's like fucking God on that forum."

I sipped my wine, but kept listening.

"S'like a failed suicide club. People mostly try to help each other. Sometimes it just helps to know that you're not the only one, ya listen to their story, and it helps you with yours. But this guy, Eye of Adam, he was like death himself. Leeches off other people. He was givin' out crazy ideas, giving everyone a reason to die and tellin' 'em how to do it right. Amelia took the bait. Before she knew it, she was brainwashed. One day she talked to me and tried to tell me the 'perfect solution'. She wanted us to die together. It was gonna be quick and it was gonna work. There was no chance of living through it. Thanks to Eye of Adam who made a tool for perfect suicide. Amelia told me it was easy. Needed two household chemicals, which would go together and make hydrogen sulphide. It kills ya within minutes. I told her she was fucking nuts, but she wouldn't give up. She argued with me, then begged me, and just ended up screamin' at me. It was just stupid. She just said she'd get everything ready and wait for me in our special place in the morning. Five in the morning, don't be late..."

I was beginning to feel bad for Al, but he needed to get this out, so I just let him keep talking.

"Those were her last words to me. Then she stomped out'a the house. I cried for a while, I'll admit it. Few times I even tried to tell myself she was right and I should do it... but I just couldn't. Fells asleep, didn't plan on it. Head hurt, felt tired. Woke up suddenly, could see the sun coming up out the window. It was almost five... Panicked, jumped out of bed, ran out the door. I needed to stop her, needed to get there before it was too late. But right there in my room, before I even left, I already knew it was. When I got to the special place it was already bright. We used to go there in the past, drink beers, smoke, listen to music... Wasn't really anything special about it, it was an old parking lot... but to us there was. No people, quiet, safe. After that day I never went there again. There was an old rusty car, right in the middle of the place. The windows were fogged white and I knew it, she was in there. Signs on the windows, too. Said there was poison inside and told ya not to go in."

He was shaking now, but I couldn't see any tears falling. I don't think he could cry anymore.

"There were signs?" I asked quietly.

"Warning signs, yeah. Found on the forum that Eye of Adam doesn't want anyone dying by accident, so he posted this poster for people to print. Fumes could just anyone that opens the door, and that's not the point. The whole idea is to die on purpose, to clear your mind. To want it."

"Jesus..." I breathed. "You'd think the police would investigate the whole thing. Sounds almost like a sect."

"The guy knows how to hide. Police won't bother. Took me three months to track him down here. Now I'm so close I can almost smell that fucker."

I finished off my current glass of wine.

"I'm so sorry... I think now I understand. She loved you so much she couldn't bear the thought of living without you... And that guy... The Eye of Adam... I'm not surprised you want to find him, I know I would. I'm not sure if I should believe that you only want to 'talk' to him... but hey, that's none of my business. I wouldn't know what I'd do if this happened to me."

"Good to know." Al smiled his first smile in a while. "But I really just wanna talk to him. I wanna face Amelia's killer and tell him what he did to me... ya know... the funny part is, he actually told me where he lives. He wants to meet me! Can you believe that?"

"How come?" I asked.

"Well... it's called 'trolling' on the internet. Usually bullying or cruelty. Those who are smart enough say 'don't feed the troll'. Don't talk to the trolls. It... it only makes it worse if you pay them any mind. Eye of Adam is a troll, he likes attention. I e-mailed him and told him I was a huge fan who loves his 'work'. Didn't believe me at first... But trolls are always hungry, and I was definitely going to feed him."

"What do you mean?"

Now we couldn't even see the city below us with the dense fog. All we could see was pure white.

"Fed him so much bullshit that he really thought I was a suicide preacher just like him."

"Great. I wish he's given you his door number, though."

"S'all a part of some sick game he's playing. Sooner or later I'll find him."

I nodded, truly hoping the best for him. He was certainly a wounded soul if I ever saw one, and I wasn't sure if it was pity or if I was genuinely sorry for him. Either way, he was becoming easier to talk to.

"What are those two chemical products?" I asked.

"Well... I... I'm not sure if you want to know that..."

"I get it." I sighed. "You don't want to tell me because I'm a suicidal maniac. Is that it?"

"No, Artie! No, I didn't mean it like that..."

Silence.

"Okay, maybe a little. Just replace maniac with victim. You just came back from the hospital... whatever it was that made ya do it proved that you could do it. Don't know ya well enough to tell if you're over it now, and the last thing I want is to give ya ideas. It would be just like Eye of Adam. Couldn't forgive myself if you died 'cause of me, ya know?"

I nodded in understanding. Of course he would be sensitive about this sort of thing, and now it made sense why he saved me. In fact, after that whole story, I had to admit I was a little glad he did.

"I've learnt me lesson." I said, remembering Matthew. "Dying is definitely not for me."

"I'd love to believe ya, Artie, but I'm gonna need you to promise you'll never try it."

"All right. I can promise I'll never try this method. Or any other method, for that matter. Been there, done that. Didn't enjoy it much. Do you believe me now?"

"Yeah. I think I do. Good. I'm real glad ya said that."

I heard the engine of a van pulling up near our flat below us.

"The recipe for it is real easy. Anyone can make it."

o

_Present time..._

I awoke lying in a pool of my own and the blood of countless others. I was still in the same room as before, which would mean that Ludwig and Feliciano had not noticed I was outside of the restraints. I stood up, grimacing at the red stains plastered to my back. At least I could see again, and the pain was gone. My face and eyes felt normal again too. So, great, that settled it. I was absolutely and irrevocably immortal. The next room over was filled with empty cat crates. This made me shudder as I remembered Feliciano say something about cats, and I instantly worried for the poor dears. Were they my cats? I couldn't dally on those thoughts though, I needed to get out. Al was probably worried that I hadn't come back.

**(AN: Teacup let the cats out.)**

Atop one of the crates was an old, bloody cat grabber. It was odd, I thought that these grabbers were banned years ago, as they usually caused the animals a lot of pain. Then again, knowing these people, I wasn't surprised they had one. I grabbed them, then heard a strange noise coming from somewhere.

I noticed a closed door next to me and realized that that was where the noise was coming from. I decided to ignore it for now and to ascend the other way out of the room, the stairs. Thankfully they didn't creak, but the strange thing was, at the top it looked like just an ordinary house. There was another set of stairs near me, this one more grand, leading to the second floor. I had been in the basement this entire time, and behind closed doors, this house just seemed like any other. Little did anyone know there was a room pooling with blood in the basement where they pour bleach in unsuspecting victims. The seemingly normal home was abnormally cold. I wondered why that was. It was like it was in a constantly refrigerated state.

I jumped at the sound of a grandfather clock going off upstairs, but nothing happened after that.

I could not see an exit from this room, and even the, how was I to find my way home in such thick fog? Besides, I needed to get rid of these people first.

There was a door to my left. I took it, finding myself in a lounge-like room. There were red curtains with the windows, clashing with the floral print green walls, as well as several red lounge chairs and love-seats. It was hard to believe only two people lived here. There was also an old classic jukebox settled in the corner of the room.

I realized dismally that I could never find my way home out in that fog. I could have cried if I wasn't so enraged. Perhaps if there was a phone somewhere in this house I could call my own flat and Al would answer. I cursed myself for not bothering to buy a mobile.

At the end of the room was another door, but inside it was pitch black. I switched on the light switch, but nothing happened. It needed a new light bulb.

From below I heard those same strange noises from before, and thought that perhaps just a small peek wouldn't hurt.

I reluctantly went back into the basement and cracked open the strange door slightly, just to peek. ON the other side, Ludwig was asleep on a chair, gun in one hand, dirty rag in the other. I thought about just running in there and strangling him now, but realized it was a terrible idea and that I shouldn't let my anger get to me. Collecting guns was obviously his little passion. It wouldn't be a very good idea for me to even enter this room. If only I could have reached one of them. They were all right next to him, and he's surely hear me and wake up. Was Ludwig drunk? Or on drugs? He was certainly snoring rather loudly. Regardless, I had no chance in a fight with him either. I was as scrawny as a twig, and he looked like a pale, German body-builder. That and he was fast, strong... and insane. But he wasn't the sharpest tool in the box. I'd have to use my wits to get rid of this one.

This must have been his private room. I'd bet he sits there all day, playing with his guns while his little Italian demon cooks his food upstairs. What a charming couple...

There was a draft coming in through the broken window of the room. I noted it in my mind and turned on my heel, gently and quietly shutting the door behind me.

Next I tried the exit, or rather, the front door. It opened easily and, lucky for me, quietly. I could hear Ludwig's snoring through the broken window near the ground that leads into the basement. As I suspected, the fog was too dense to see anything. I could only scarcely make out the outlining of a tree that looked like it was made of thorns, and the rectangular outline of Ludwig's van. I couldn't see anything beyond that at all. I was probably stuck here unless I called for help.

The glass on one side of the basement window was broken, which explained the slight draft inside. I could see the sleeping German inside on the chair still.

Looking at his van, I was almost glad I was unconscious when he brought me here. Through the vehicle's window I could see animal mess and blood everywhere. The back door of the van was locked. Perhaps I would be able to find a spare key somewhere. He had also left his phone on the driver's seat. It could be my key out of here if I could get inside, but that door was locked too, and the glass was double-plated and sturdy.

A chill ran down my spine when I was forced to re-enter the house. I found the kitchen, which had the same ugly green floral patterned wall paper as outside. There were several empty wine and beer bottle on the counter. Obviously, these two loved to drink. There were empty pots and pans on the stove as well, all rusted and dirty, but used often. I took a knife off the knife rack, just because it assured me that I had a weapon, and I put it in the same hand I was carrying the old cat grabber. The sink was slimy and chipped in places, and I didn't think they used it very often. The door to the fridge was stuck, but that was probably a good thing. I was sure I didn't want to know what was inside.

My heart skipped a beat when I heard a door creak from somewhere on the lot, but I couldn't discern where, and there was no more noise after that. Regaining my breath I found the dining room.

At the end of the dining room there was an old door. With work it opened, and inside were a few boxes and bottles of bleach. I grimaced. Then again, I took a bottle. The more ammunition I had, the better. The bleach reminded me of something as well. Ah yes, the formula for the perfect toxic gas.

O

_Earlier..._

"First thing ya need is some strong bleach... not just normal bleach, but the kind that makes your eyes all watery and your skin all itchy." Al explained. We were still on the balcony, the wine bottle was now completely empty.

He was about to continue, but stopped when he heard me gasp at the sound of cats crying out. I couldn't see them, it was coming from below the balcony on the ground. They were yowling and whining at something loudly in a chorus of noise.

"What's going on?" I said aloud, looking over the balcony but unable to see anything. "Something's wrong. The cats are alarming." I began to panic.

They were becoming louder along with my growing worry and itch to see what was the matter.

"That's how it was when I found you." Al said.

"We've got to check what's going on."I murmured, beginning to leave the balcony.

"Okay, you can, but I'm not goin' down there in that fog." he said, toying with the ends of his jacket and averting his eyes.

"Fine. I'll go by myself." I dismissed, leaving him to his own devices on my balcony. Maybe it was a mistake leaving a partial stranger alone in my own home, but I didn't care much at the moment. I quickly left my flat and descended the building stairs to the ground floor.

When I stepped outside the cats were silent and the now white noise was deafening. I looked up, but could not see my balcony through the fog. It was rather chilly and humid outside. I gathered my arms around myself and began listlessly searching through the fog near my building.

Then, I heard a muffled noise. I quickly went in that direction and found myself facing the van I had heard pull in earlier. The noise was coming from the back of the van, but I couldn't see inside for the life of me.

I jumped out of my skin when I heard a gruff voice ring out from behind me. I could swear he was not there before.

"This fog makes it so I can't see a thing."

I whirled around and came face to face with a man who had pale, blonde hair, slicked back. His violet eyes shone through the fog. I don't know why, but I couldn't bring myself to utter a single word.

"Someone could be killed two feet away and no one would notice."

His eyes burned into me like the hot metal on a branding iron.

"It could be worse. At least it's not raining." the intimidating man said. "Always look on the bright side of things. I like to live that way."

This man seemed to dally in his own thoughts. He seemed apathetic to the things around him, yet somehow interested in them. He smelled strange, too. Almost like Francis did. He smelled like rotting things.

"You don't talk very often, do you." he said to me. It wasn't said like a question, but a statement. "What's your name?"

"It's none of your business." I said sternly yet quietly.

"You're Arthur, right?" he said with imploring eyes.

A red light was going off in my head, signaling that I needed to run away from there, and get as far away as possible. I needed to escape whatever this man was planning. Something, however, kept me rooted in place. I have the faintest idea that it was the muffled noises coming from the back of his van, sounding similar to that of a cat's meow.

"A nice man who lives in your building told me what you look like."

Oh, yes, of course. Roderich had called pest control and must have told them everything he knew about me.

"What... do you want?" I said slowly.

"I'm here on a job, that's all. I got a call that there was a cat problem, and apparently some maniac keeps making it worse for everyone. A maniac named Arthur, I was told."

I glared at him, but he was completely unfazed.

"You aren't going to like it," he said. "but you're coming with me."

Before I could get a single word in, or even flee for my life, he lunged at me.

O

_Present time..._

I kept the bleach with me, thinking I might need it sometime. There was a door made of swelling plywood with a rusted hook for a know. I pulled it open and was faced with more fog, overgrown plants, and a disgustingly mossy and murky little pond. I shivered and began slowly walking through the yard, hearing strange noises in the distance.

The water in the pond looked very odd, like a mixture of dirt, melted fat, and petrol.

There was a shed at the end of the yard, and stupidly, I opened the door without a thought. My eyes widened.

Feliciano turned to me with surprised rose eyes and a face with little droplets of blood dappled around. He was holding a large knife, no, a meat cleaver in his hands and what was in front of him was just vile. Chunks of rotten, stinky, oozing putrid meat. It was all red and cut into little rectangles, and I had to fight not to throw up right then and there. This was what they had meant by _dinner. _It wasn't animal meat, if the bones were anything to go by, but _human _meat.

There was a tense moment when the Italian and I just mirrored shocked expressions, but that ended all too soon. His eyes narrowed and his eyebrows furrowed. A stray drop of blood rolled down his cheek and fell, dripping on the ground. It was heard in the silence.

"Look at what the cat's dragged in..." he growled, voice an entirely different octave than before. This wasn't the high pitched, airy, playful voice he had when he was pouring bleach on me, but a hoarse, almost demanding voice.

I wanted to back away, but my feet wouldn't budge. The Italian began walking to me, leaving sticky little footprints of blood on the already disgusting floor of the shed.

My foot shakily moved back, but I tripped over the edge of the shed, landing on my back and staring into Feliciano's psychotic eyes. He raised the cleaver into the air, and dropped it, again and again, just like Francis had.

Honestly, this was getting a little old.

O

My eyes opened and I was in the basement room with the blood again. Feliciano hadn't bothered tying me this time. I still had a dull ache in my abdomen, but otherwise I was just fine save for the wet-again scarlet stain on my back.

I tried to remember what was in the shed other than the meat. I noticed a few shelves on the wall, and some of the items looked useful to me. I would probably need to lure Feliciano away somehow. But how? This entire process was just becoming so tedious, and I began to question why I didn't just leave the place.

Then I realized it was because I wasn't the only person this had happened to. These people needed to be stopped, just like Francis had. I giggled to myself when I thought of how stupid they were. They didn't know just who they were messing with. I grabbed a dirty rag off the red stained shelf and ascended the stairs, finding myself in the main room again. I'm amazed that no one had noticed my red footprints by now, as I was surprised to see them myself. Feliciano had probably thought nothing of it when he had the idea that he'd killed me once and for all.

The reason I had grabbed the rag in the first place was to get a light bulb for that dark room. There were some lamps in the main room, which didn't look like it needed lighting due to the windows anyway. The bulbs were too hot to grab with your bare hands, so I took the cloth and unscrewed the bulbs, using it like an oven mitt.

I took two bulbs and traveled to the dark room. I screwed both of them into the separate lamps with some fumbling in the pitch blackness, but eventually the room was light enough that I could actually make some progress.

It was a library. Tens, or maybe hundreds of books were sorted neatly on the shelves, but they all looked like they hadn't been used in years. I felt bad for the place as an avid reading fan, and assumed that they had been left there by the previous owners. My gaze fell on an old phone book, and opening it proved that it was from ten years ago.

There was also an old dial telephone on the other side of the room, you know, the ones with the spiraled cord and actual number dial. It was still working, miraculously. There was a yellowed sticker withered on permanently over time that had several numbers printed on it.

"_01392 273592"_

I picked up the phone and dialed the number, calling it, but there was no response. I hung up that phone and frowned, realizing that it was this phone's number and that it would be pointless. Unless I was able to get another phone from somewhere. Yes, that might provide a distraction for Feliciano.

But, I didn't have another phone. Therefore I couldn't do that. Again I cursed myself for not bothering to buy a mobile.

Forgetting that idea, I simply decided to call the police. The phone rung in my ear three times before it picked up.

"_Police emergency line. How can I help you?"_

"My name is Arthur Kirkland." I whispered so to not alert the two in the household. "I've been kidnapped... these people are crazy! They're going to eat me alive!"

I thought that maybe instead of killing these two like I had originally planned to in such a barbaric manner, maybe instead I could just have them locked up.

"I don't know what to do!" I continued. "Please, you've got to help me, please."

"_What's your home address and post code, sir?"_

"Wh... what?" I stammered. "That's irrelevant! I've been kidnapped, I'm not at home!"

"_I'm afraid I need your home address to confirm your identity, Mr. Kirkland."_

"It's Flat 4, 12 Helen Street, EX44 22DL. Okay? Now, please, do something, for God's sake!"

"_Calm down, sir. Who's kidnapped you?"_

"A... a man named Ludwig, and another named Feliciano. The first one's an animal control guy, drives a white van... I think the other one is his lover or something, and he poured bleach down my face! … Bastard... They're... they're just mad! Won't stop at anything! I'd run away but there's this fog... and I have no idea where we are..." I was rather good at acting the scared citizen part, if I do say so myself.

"_You have been kidnapped by a married couple, is that correct?"_

"No, I don't know if... and they're not just any couple! Don't you understand what I'm saying? These people are serial killers! There's blood and bones everywhere! I mean, some of it might be animal's blood, but I'm sure it's mostly human blood! I told you, they eat stray cats and dogs, and they eat people... they're sick... they make me sick..."

The man on the other end of the line sighed, almost in an exasperated way, and it infuriated me.

"_Is this a case of family disturbance, sir?"_

"What?!" I cried. "No!"

"_Did you know this married couple prior to the incident? Are you related?"_

"Jesus, I told you I don't know if they're married, and I didn't even say anything about that! What would even make you think that?!"

"_Calm down, please. I'm only trying to help you, sir. I need to establish some facts first before a police car can be dispatched."_

"Look, just track this number and you'll find where I am. You can do that, correct? They always do it on films... I bet you've got my number displayed on the screen already? Just do me a favor and send a police car, will you?"

"_Of course, sir. Stay on the line."_

There was a long stretch of silence that enraged me with the service more than I already was. At least they didn't have the nerve to play music for the hold.

"_Did you witness cruelty to animals?"_ said an older voice that whistled their S sounds.

"What?" I said, not expecting that at all.

"_You mentioned animal blood. Was this married couple cruel to animals? If so, I will put you through to Animal Welfare Services for this area. Would you prefer that, sir?"_

"Are you bloody joking?" I breathed. "No, no I would not!"

"_Okay. Please hold the line."_

There was more silence and I wanted to scream to fill it, but I knew better than to do that here. When there was no answer for a long time, I began to fidget.

"Hello?" I said into the phone.

There was more silence until I finally got an answer.

"_Mr. Kirkland? Are you still there?"_

"Yes! Of course I'm still here!"

"_According to our records you have very recently discharged yourself from the hospital... Are you currently undergoing treatment for any mental health problems?"_

Oh, great. He thought I was nuts too.

"No, it's not like that..." I argued.

I heard a long, drawn out intake of breath on the other line, as if he was actually having the nerve to become frustrated with me.

"_Mr. Kirkland, please listen to me very carefully. I can connect you with the on-duty doctor at the RCW hospital's mental health unit where you received care recently. They can help you. You just have to talk to them and explain what's on your mind-"_

"I'm not crazy!" I wanted to shout, but instead made a mixture of yelling and whispering.

There was silence after that.

"So... that's it?" I said into the line, absolutely enraged at the service I was receiving. "You're just not going to help me?"

"_We are not qualified to provide psychiatric help, sir. It's best if you contact your doctors. Would you like me to give you their number in case you'd prefer to call them yourself?"_

"Oh, don't bother..." I drawled, and laughed sarcastically. "I'll take care of it myself. Thanks for nothing. Goodbye."

I hung up the phone and pinched the bridge of my nose. That was literally the worst service I had ever received. Ever.

After regaining my wavering patience, I looked around the room some more. Strangely, under the table with the old telephone, there was Ludwig's old gas mask. I found it odd that he's put it here, probably to hide it from Feliciano, but lost in the moment I picked it up. My hands were becoming rather full, but still. He wouldn't need it ever again after I was through here.

There was also a mobile phone on one of the bookshelves. Had he just cleaned out his van and put hidden everything in here? Without a second thought, I took the mobile device. All I had to do was dial a number.

I dialed the number I had seen earlier on the dial telephone, serving as a distraction so that Feliciano would leave to answer it, and I'd be able to get what was inside the shed.

The telephone rang from a few feet away and, hurriedly, I hid underneath another table that most likely served as a decoration against the wall. It luckily had a tablecloth over it, so I was able to stay hidden rather well.

I head him approaching. For some reason, the floorboards creaked when he walked, but didn't when I did. I thought that, perhaps, luck was not on my side. He answered the phone and seemed puzzled when no one was on the line. I took his puzzlement as an opportunity to escape the library through the open door, quickly dashing to the shed outside. All I found was a crystal clear bottle of pesticide. Why had I thought this would be useful...?

Sighing, but keeping the bottle with me, I quickly exited knowing the hellish Italian could be back at any moment. I found myself outside and hiding behind Ludwig's van, his phone still in my hand. I still had one option left, to call my own flat. I briefly wondered why I hadn't done this in the first place.

I dialed the number and put the phone to my ear, relaxing slightly and leaning against the filthy van. I didn't care about the grime, I was already covered in blood anyway.

The phone rang for a long time, and I was beginning to grow anxious. What if Al had just gone to look for me? No, that couldn't be the case, he hated the fog...

I could have jumped for joy when a voice on the other line picked up.

"_Y... yeah?"_

"Oh, thank God!" I said. "Finally! Al, it's me, I need your help."

"_Whoa, Artie? What happened? Where are you?!"_

"I've been kidnapped by some psychopaths!" I cried.

"_Wha...? How'd that happen? You just went outside to check on the cats..."_

"Look, it doesn't matter. I'll explain everything later. These people are maniacs... they're killers! It's either me or them... I have no choice."

Silence.

"I've found some bleach." I continued. "It reminded me of this gas you were talking about... I could get rid of one of them with that gas and get a hold of a gun... You said it was fairly easy."

"_No, no, you can't..."_

"Listen to me. This guy is a murderer! He's nothing but a..." I winced. "A Parasite. No one will miss him. Trust me. The police certainly won't be coming to rescue me... And I could really use the gun he has here, you know..."

"_I... but..."_

"What's the other chemical Al?!"

"_Okay, okay! Fine! I'll tell you! It's not rocket science, just pesticide."_

… Oh. I thanked my earlier actions and eyed the pesticide in my hand.

"But... pesticide? Didn't you say it was something anyone could make?"

"_Well you wouldn't have it in the first place. You live in an apartment, high above the ground... S'for people with houses and yards. You can just pick it up at the store, I mean..."_

"Fine. What do I do with it?"

"_Just mix the bleach and pesticide. Wear something that'll protect ya, a gas mask or something."_

I looked down to the object it my hand again. Luck was definitely on my side today.

"Right. Bleach... pesticide... got it."

"_And a gas mask! Got it?"_

"Yes. Thank you. Wish me luck."

"_Be careful..."_

"I'll be fine. I'm tougher than you think. This is like a walk in the park now."

I hung up and pocketed the phone, giddy at my luck.

I went to the basement to find Ludwig still fast asleep in his chair. Perfect. I grabbed a stray bucket from the corner of the room and quietly set it in the center. I pushed the gas mask over my head. It was a little big for me, but at least it did its job and I was breathing fresh oxygen and not the fumes of gore and soon to be poison.

I set about pouring the pale yellow burning bleach into the bucket and heard it sizzle. I shuddered and discarded the bottle when it was drained. Next I poured in the clear pesticide, and put it with the bleach bottle.

To me, in the gas mask, everything seemed normal.

Then he began to stir. The German clutched at his neck lightly in his sleep and scratched, then he winced, and woke fully. He stood fully but slouched a little, trembling and coughing and clutching. He turned to the door and also me, most likely in hopes of leaving the room, and I'll bet he would have gasped in surprise had he been able.

The sight of me, just standing there without a care in the world, just watching him struggle.

He didn't have time to be shocked, instead erupting into a huge coughing fit. The coughing didn't stop.

Eventually he just vomited, and fell limply to the ground in his own mess.

I smirked triumphantly at him and took the gun from his limp hand, then I just left the room in a completely apathetic state.

My heart beat wildly and excitedly in my chest at the prospect of being able to rid the world of that awful demon who dared defy me.

I proudly, and as loudly as I could, stomped up the basement stairs and into the main room. I took my time strolling through the disgusting kitchen and reveled in the fog of the yard.

My power spree was cut short when I found that he was not in the chopping shed.

My heard nearly stopped when I heard an evil little giggle behind me. I whirled around and didn't pay any mind to the big, innocent and child-like look in Feliciano's big, pale red eyes, or his twisted smile, and I just shot him with a spray of blood.

He fell to the ground limply and smiled up at me still. But this smile seemed different. He seemed almost... grateful.

O

**AN: Gosh I'm sorry for all that death and sickness in one chapter. But hey... it's a tragedy.**

**I apologize for typos or spelling/grammar mistakes.**

**I do not own Hetalia or The Cat Lady in any way, shape, or form.**


	6. Some Flowers Never Point Towards the Sun

**AN: Have some friendship and death.**

**I do not own The Cat Lady or Hetalia in any way, shape, or form.**

**SOME FLOWERS NEVER POINT TOWARD THE SUN**

**O**

"Dude, I was worried sick about you..." Al whined, answering the door for me. "You okay? You're all bloody... how did you even get back here?"

"I walked." I said quietly, coldly.

"... I told you there were bad things in the fog... what did you see out there?"

He pulled me into my flat and away from the empty and dismal hallway, shutting the door behind us.

"I saw a monster." I whispered.

He gave me look, of pity maybe, or understanding, I don't know, and pulled me against him. I limply stood there with my head on his shoulder, and I can't seem to recall whether I cried or not, but for the sake of my pride let's just say I didn't. I couldn't cry when it was my job to do these things in the first place.

O

I ran the hot water, knowing that I deserved at least a long bath.

When I slipped into the water there was a knock at the bathroom door.

"Hey Art? Can I ask you somethin'?"

"Is it important?" I sighed.

"Yeah, really important! The fate of the world depends on it!" he cried. I quirked a thick eyebrow at the door.

"Ask away then..."

"I'm making pancakes. How do you like yours?" I could hear the smile in his voice. I wanted to slap a hand against my own face.

"Oh, okay. I like pancakes. Maple syrup." I answered.

"'Kay, five pancakes with maple syrup comin' right up!"

"Five? I can't eat that much..."

"Oh trust me, you will when you try my pancakes."

"If you don't leave me alone I never will, Al."

"Wh-wha-" he stammered. "Why?"

"I can smell something funny. I think your pancakes are burning."

"Oh, shi-"

o

"That was too much. Really, that was too much..." I was sat at the table with my head resting on the cool metal, clutching my near exploding stomach. "Where did you learn to cook like that?"

"Dad taught me." Al answered. He was sat across from me, looking out the window as the rain continued to pound on the streets. He seemed deep in thought.

"The rain's back." he said. "Good thing too. No more fog."

I grimaced. "Yes, but when it rains, it hardly ever stops. What if it never does?"  
"Then I guess it'll rain for million years. Still better than the damn fog."

o

"I don't get it... what's the point of... what did you say it was called again?" I had Al's laptop on my lap, completely puzzled at what was going on. He had made me an account on this so called social network, and my own smiling face was staring back at me from years before on my new profile picture.

"For the third time, social network. S'not that hard to remember."

"I just find the whole thing rather stupid." I grumbled childishly. "Why would I want to tell people I don't know that I'm having a bad day?"

"Well maybe you'd just feel better sharing it with your friends..."

"But I don't have any friends."

He snorted. "And you never will with that attitude."

"You, on the other hand, seem to have 274 of them. How is that even possible?"

"Hey, what can I say? People like me."

o

We were once again standing out on the balcony. The rain had stopped, and miraculously there was no fog at all. I had recently summoned the cats and since it was mellow out, I set their dishes on the ledge so that they could eat there.

"Dude, this is actually really cool." he was scratching the blue eyed one behind the ears. It meowed cheerfully and set back to eating like it was its first meal in days. Which it wasn't, I had fed it yesterday evening when Al wasn't around. "So they just come when you play the piano?"

I nodded, holding Teacup close to my chest. "Yes, but I don't play very often. Mostly just when I feel down." The green eyed fold hopped down and ran into my flat, leaving me feeling much colder. "Then again, if that's the case, I probably play more often than I thought."

We listened to the cats munch because there was more of the pesky silence. The rain started up again, sprinkling down a few feet from the covered ledge and balcony.

"Man, you're real depressing sometimes. I know a song just for that and it'll cheer you right up. Maybe I could play it sometime. S'called 'All Flowers in Time Bend Toward the Sun'."

"Flowers... yes, like roses? Of course they do."

"Do you know it?"

"Never heard of it."

"I figured as much... the singer drowned in Mississippi when he was young."

o

My cat clock was ticking and it was driving into a drowsy state. I had planned on finally finishing the book I was reading, but if the cat kept this up, I'd just fall asleep in the most important part. I yawned, placing the book beside me on my bed, and rested. I could do for a nice nap.

Later when I awoke, I just stayed there, staring dismally out into the dark of night.

O

"Since I was nice enough to make you a profile, I figure ya might wanna use it."

We were once again sitting in the spare room, or what was no Al's room, and he was trying to get me onto a social networking site.

"What am I even supposed to do with it?"

"Look for people you know. Talk to them. Maybe you have some old friends?" he suggested in what was supposed to be a helpful manner, but it just made me want to sulk.

"I don't know about that... I can't think of any names. I probably never cared enough for them."

"People you went to school with? Work?"

"... Nope. Friends: 0. At least this website is right about one thing."

"I'll add you later."

o

"Made coffee." he grumbled, passing me on the sofa and moving to sit at the table. He had indeed made coffee, and there was a steaming mug waiting for me as well. I didn't like the stuff, hated it actually, but it would have been rather rude to just waste his offer.

I sat across from him, and noticed how down he looked. His red eyes were peering at the table and he had a tight frown with scrunched up shoulders.

"Having a bad day?" I offered and he nodded. "What's wrong?"

"I just dunno how to get started with this thing..."he sighed, rubbing his eyes under his red wired glasses. "Been thinking about it for a few days and I can't get any ideas. Maybe... maybe it's pointless. Maybe I can't find where the bastard's hiding."

Alfred sipped his coffee, looking like he really needed it.

"Maybe I can help you." I offered. "I have more free time than I can deal with."

He looked up with a gleam of hope shining in his eyes.

I smiled wanly, unused to the action, and began explaining.

"There are four floors in the building, and two flats on each floor."

"... Ya really wanna help me? Wow, that's... that's real nice of ya there."

I nodded, unused to being told such things as well. I thought about my neighbors, trying not to stray into how they've acted towards me, and instead just thinking about them as people and gauging whether they were capable of being Eye of Adam.  
"There's a rather rude man who lives above me in Flat 6, Roderich. Didn't I tell you about him? The one that shouted in my face? Roderich Edelstein."

"Do you know anything about him?"

"Not much," I replied. "... Wait. There used to be someone living there with him. Don't remember much, haven't seen them for ages."

"Could Roddy be our guy?"  
"No," I snorted. "Never. He's far too stupid."

"I'll just trust you on that one then. Let's count him out of the picture."

"One of the flats is empty." I continued.

"Which one?"

"I think it's the one on the first floor. Flat 1."

"There's an odd married couple that lives on my floor as well."

"Yeah? Know anything about them?"

"Well, the man... his name is Ivan Braginski. He's always brooding, kind of quiet. Though... I have heard him shouting a couple of times and he sounded almost like a completely different person... like... I don't know, like madman. Does that make sense? I gather they must have some serious relationship problems and they're trying to sort them out behind closed doors. It's impossible to hide this personal dirt from your neighbors, though I know it's none of my business, I can't exactly just plug my ears and pretend I don't know what's going on over there."

"Okay, interesting. And his wife?"

"Natalia Braginski... or was it Katyusha? I can't remember. She's very polite and sweet, always says hello. She's rather tiny, so little you could almost mistake her for a coat rack. Like a walking skeleton. I bet she only eats a leaf of lettuce a day, or nothing at all... come to think of it, she looks rather ill."

"Anything else?"

"They used to have a cat. Toris. I often wonder what happened to the poor little chap. Oh, and we can forget our flat, of course."

"Yep, good."

"Also, there's an old man in flat 5, right across from Roderich."

Alfred nodded. He was staring straight at me, absorbing every little bit of information I could offer. It seemed he really needed to find this man.

"There are also strange noises coming from flat 7 sometimes."

"Yeah? What kind?"

"Like... screaming... explosions... guns... Then shouted threats, very loud."

"... Huh. I think I might know what's going on there, probably just a gamer, but it's worth looking at."

I nodded, finishing off my coffee and setting the mug aside.

"Do you know the person who lives there?" Al asked.

"No, I don't. It's the top floor. I have no business up there. All I know is what I've overheard from neighbors' gossip. Sometimes I hear a dog barking on floor 1."

"First floor? Where you said one of the apartments was empty?"

"Yes. Which means the owner of the other flat keeps a dog. … I hate dogs."

"Right, 'course ya do."

"Can you imagine the man you're looking for being a dog lover?"

"Can't see why not."

"In that case, let's look into it. Lastly there's a woman with a baby living upstairs."

"No husband?"

"I'm not sure. I hardly see her. When I do it's usually in the halls when she's pushing a pram with a baby inside. She always has tons of shopping hanging from it. Once, I nearly asked her if she needed help to carry it upstairs."

"And?"

"I hesitated for a moment and by the time I offered she grabbed the baby and the shopping bags and marched off upstairs. Anyway, that's all I know at the moment."

A tree branch hit the window, startling us both out of thought. We laughed a little and I took the mugs, heading to the kitchen.

"Hey Art? What's a pram?"

"Oh, I think you'd call it a... a stroller?"

"Oh, okay."

I turned on the warm water, rinsing out the mugs and soaping up a sponge. I washed them, dried them with a spare rag, and put them away in the cupboard, leaning against the door frame of a kitchen.

"That reminds me," Al began, resting his cheek on one fist and gazing out the window at the tapping branch and rain. "I found an old stroller in my room with all that stuff... do you have kids or something?"

My heart clenched and I may have replied more harsh than I had planned, but what could I do about it when he was opening up old wounds?

"Who do you want to know?"

"Hey, just curious..." he defended, then grinned slyly at me as if he was completely unfazed by my tone. "I can tell you're hiding some big dark secret, Artie."

Then his grin turned genuine again as he looked at me. "You might feel better if you talk about it."

"Al, you don't want to know, trust me..."

"Okay," he looked at the window again, scrunching up his cheek childishly against his hand. "Okay, I get it. You don't want to, but I want us to be friends. I could really use one right now is all."

"I'm not very good at friendships. I thought that was rather obvious."

He ignored me. "Friends should trust each other, ya know? I told you about Amelia and all that shit, why can't you tell me you story?"

"You told me about her because you wanted to! I didn't force you to, did I? My private things are... nobody else's business, not even yours."

I moved back into the kitchen and away from his slightly alarmed eyes. He clearly hadn't expected me to react this way, and I couldn't blame him, but I just wish that everyone would stop bringing it up.

"Why does everyone want to remind me of this?" I said to myself, but I knew he could hear me. "Isn't ten terrible years of suffering enough to let go and never bring it up again? Even-"

There was a sudden knock at the door.

I startled, wiping at my eyes I hadn't realized were crying, and left the kitchen in a hurry. I didn't give Alfred a glance. I knew if I would have and seen his bewildered expression, I'd just be sent into another fit again. The knocking persisted and gradually grew louder.

I stood near the door and called out. "Who is it?"

Silence. The person on the other side of the door said nothing, or perhaps it wasn't a person, but some sort of mail. I ran a hand through my pale blonde hair, wiped at my eyes again, and began to undo the many locks on my door. I twisted the deadbolt, turned the lock on the door knob, and reached up to pull out the chain.

"Hang on a second," I said, in case there really was someone on the other side. I turned around to fumble with the light switch, noticing now that the lights had been off the entire time. I could see Al from the corner of my vision giving the door a curious look. Then, I heard the door slam open behind me, and he suddenly stood with wide eyes looking past me.

I whirled around and found a man dressed completely in black. He was at least a foot taller than me, and wore dark sunglasses. He also had large bouquet of roses in his hands. Their curvy red petals could have sent me into a rage right then and there, I hated roses with a fiery passion, but the confusion beat the rage.

"Roses?"

The man did not answer. He thrust the roses up into my face, and I could smell their sickly sweet scent. This freed his other hand, and for reasons I couldn't decipher at the time, he was holding a rather large and intimidating hammer. I backed away from him and the flowers, eying them strangely.

"What's that... in your other hand?" my voice left me for a moment, and I backed up more, now a few feet away from the doorway.

The tall man still did not answer, only left me with frightening silence.

"Go away-" I started, but he interrupted me. He threw the roses to the ground, stomping on them like I wished I could have. His hold on the hammer tightened and his knuckles were white, but I still could not gauge a facial expression from him. I thought maybe his eyes showed in under the shades.

He had no problem stepping on the mutilated petals more, now walking to me at a steady pace. I quickly backed away, knowing I needed to keep my eyes on him but wanting to just turn my back and run to my room and lock the door. He turned off the light on the way, forcing me into the other room where I assumed Al still was, but when I looked, the chair was empty and there was no sign of him. The frightening man turned those lights off too, and I felt my chances becoming slimmer by the second. I could bolt past him and leave the flat, but that would most likely leave Alfred alone with a most likely dangerous person.

I felt the small of my back hit the dining table, and that was all the time he needed to raise the hammer and strike me over the head. I felt the pain for only a short moment. My vision was becoming blurry and everything momentarily faded, making me collapse onto the carpet. I heard the sound of a door clicking open, and a little surprised gasp from Al.

Then I lost consciousness for an uncountable time that month.

O

I can't be too sure if it was in my mind, or if I really and truly saw it, but my vision rested on the Crow's eye again. It was the same dull gray as last time, but it didn't move rapidly, only stared straight at me or perhaps through me. I heard its cries coming from somewhere behind me but something was keeping me from turning around. The Crow's eye had a single sliver of light inside and it was weak, suggesting that it never saw the sun, or maybe it never even saw reality. Its caws turned into laughter in my disgruntled state of mind. I could feel my feet being picked up, and I was dragged somewhere. I lost the feeling of warm carpet and came to terms with freeing tiles. I heard the flapping of wings, and the cawing was gone along with the eye.

I opened my eyes and stood, though I felt like I wasn't awake yet. A dream? Yes, a dream. It had to be, considering I was currently standing in a rustic concrete room filled with oil drums in the corners and wooden oars leaning on the door frames. The first door looked like that of an old freezer. There were brown splotches on the off-white surface, and on the rusted and almost completely orange latch hung a stubborn padlock. The door next to it was a single swinging door with no handle, all you needed to do to open it is to lean against it. I pushed it open and entered the dimly lit room, everything a rustic orange. One side of the wall was lined completely with a dirty and cracked mirror.

It showed a strange, foul creature behind me with strange robotic legs. It sort of resembled a spider, and its mouth was unhinged and opened wide with red smeared around the edges. It kept crawling around the orange room, making an obnoxious scurrying noise and picking things up off the floor with its scissor-like hands and stuffing them into its disfigured mouth. Its eyes were sunken in, hollow, with red dripping from them and it had a scraggly yellow mess atop its head that looked like dirty hair. Turning, I realized that there was no such monster in the room, thank God, and that it was only a figment of the mirror.

Another odd things about this reflection was that I looked different in the mirror. I had dark circles under my eyes, and I was constantly walking as if I were under some sort of narcotic influence. My hair was a complete mess, not that that's unusual but it was obviously worse than usual in the reflection, and my pupils were dull and lifeless. Whenever I walked, my reflection would follow with the same woozy gait, actually lagging behind me slightly. My reflection was also wearing hospital robes. In fact, remembering the bathroom mirror from back when I was in the hospital, this reflection looked exactly as I did then.

I dismissed it as a strange, twisted trick mirror or perhaps just my befuddled imagination and left, shuddering. Even outside I could hear the metallic arachnid scurrying. In the door frame I nearly slipped on a small puddle of red, probably blood, but collected myself and wiped it off on the hard floor. It occurred to me that I should be frightened, but I was becoming easily used to the sight of blood.

Back in the room I had started in, I took the door that had been behind me. This one took me back to my flat, or maybe what looked like it. It lead straight into the hallway and the first noticeable thing was my piano. It was completely overturned on its side to make room for the swelling walls. All that lined the walls were dozens, or even hundreds of, well, human skulls. It was the strangest, most morbid thing. Now I knew I was dreaming, for seeing this in reality would just be completely impossible. The windows still shone through the decayed heads, though the curtains were frayed and looked like they were burned on the edges. There was no breeze coming from outside, if outside even existed here.

My bedroom door was unreachable, completely covered in skulls. The other room, the spare one, was completely reachable though. I briefly wondered why it couldn't have been the other way around. I didn't like going in that room, not after what had happened there so many years ago.

Luckily for me, the door was locked. I turned to leave the phantom of my flat but instead gasped. From where I had come, there was yet another wall of skulls, trapping me inside this place. I pushed at it with all of my might, but it was no use, it was not budging. I turned back to the spare room, but now that was covered in skulls as well, encompassing me in a smaller space every time I turned my back.

In the minuscule space I was still able to reach the dining table. I moved an old, bloody rag from the surface, now dried and an icky brown instead of a shocking scarlet, and under the rag was the key to the spare room as well as a hammer. It looked a lot like the one the strange man had used to knock me out and get me in this situation in the first place. Yes, this was a dream, but I find that in the way I live now, sometimes I'll need to treat dreams as real life.

I used the hammer to smash both new walls. The skulls, surprisingly, fell apart and away rather easily. I used the key and unlocked the door to the spare room. Opening it, I found that instead of what I was expecting, the door led into the old outdoorsy feel of Matthew's house.

It was the room that always had random passageways connected to it, the one with candles dotting every surface in the room. The ones I had blown out were still without a flame, but plenty remained, still waiting to be extinguished. Of course there was no sign of Matthew. It seemed he was always out on business, never waiting in his own home. That is, unless I'm stuck wandering around the woods lost.

I sighed and leaned down, knowing I would need to blow out a candle in order to leave this place yet again. I blew out the candle nearest to the door.

Memories flew into my mind, dramatic and racing. This time the first thing I saw was a field of barley, the golden straws swaying to and fro in the breeze. There were trees spotting the expanse of the field, green leaves and healthy brown trunks, perhaps it was summer. Then, suddenly, a car sped into the field. It was an old one, its color a worn blue that probably used to stunningly resemble the sky. It sped into the barley, bending the straws, grazing the trees. It hit one particularly thick tree at just the right angle that the car flipped on its side and then its hood, and it just kept rolling and rolling thanks to its dynamic speed and gusto. By the time it had stopped, it was resting on its side, the hood completely dented in with no movement whatsoever. The only thing that wasn't reigned in silence was the black, filthy smoke rising from the car's front, easily polluting the pure evening air of the barley field.

Then the scene was gone, and I was back in my so called flat.

I quickly left the place, wanting nothing more to do with the skull infested area. I was back in the room with the oil drums, and there was one last door I had not takes. It led somewhere outside.

Taking the door proved my assumptions correct. I was outside. It was late in the day though, past evening and nearing dusk. I was standing on a pier, or maybe it was a bridge. I could not tell with the looming fog. The wood of the pier was swelling and damp, and the tell-tale sound of splashing water below suggested that I was on some sort of body of water, though I couldn't tell exactly what or how large. There were rusty boats near the pier, and in the distance I could scarcely make out the dark outline of a humongous ship doing nothing but floating in place. There were old parts of boats littering the dock as well, and some old and broken barrels along the way.

The boats near me would probably just fall apart if I were to board them, they were so old and rotten through. In the splintering wood of one very near me, there were the crudely carved numbers:

_384._

In the distance there was a metallic service elevator that seemed to lower into the water. It seemed odd to me. I had never heard of an underwater elevator in the entirety of my life, and this one just looked so oddly built, it had the texture of aluminum. Wouldn't it be dangerous? The metal seemed very, very thin, and the only thing lowering you into the depths was a large rusty crank on top of the machine. There was an informational sign next to it, but I hardly understood a word of it as it was mostly just technical terms I had never learnt. The only thing I could decipher was the strange passenger amount. It seemed that the minimum passenger handling capacity was two, which was odd, because it looked like only one person alone was able to fit. Perhaps it was an accident, and that was actually the maximum? Then again, I wouldn't put it past this strange place.

There was no power to the machine, and nothing nearby to give it any, meaning I would need to find a power switch or the like elsewhere, if I even decided to use this strange contraption. It didn't look very safe, but it was probably my only way out of there.

I went inside the old building again reluctantly, remembering the numbers I had seen carved into the boat. I smartly entered them into the padlock, cheering inwardly when it clicked open and I was allowed inside the room. I opened the thick door and this room very much resembled the color of Matthew's house, maybe it was the amount of rust. Another mirror was on the wall, but I was silently thanking the world that there wasn't another one of those dastardly creatures in this room. Instead, I saw myself in the mirror, but again I looked different than I actually did. This reflection was wearing my pink sweater vest over a white shirt, and looked a little worse for wear. He had little splotches of mud dotting my face and clothes, and there was a little leaf stuck to my hair comically. I looked angry, or perhaps frustrated, and I knew that this was what I looked like when I was traversing the woods and the field of wheat.

There were also numerous levers on the wall, all in a neat horizontal line with rusted bases. I pulled the first one and gasped at what happened, in the mirror, a large beam abruptly crashed into the room, right where my reflection was standing. He quickly jumped out of the way however and moved to the right of me, still staring at me with my cold blue eyes. I grinned a little and chuckled, then noticed another thing in the mirror. On the opposite side of the room, there was a rusty metallic machine made of gears and levers, not moving. When I noticed a small plaque near it, I realized that it was the same machine in the shack, then I remembered that it was my own blood that turned it on. I thought for a moment, reeling on about how my reflection seemed to have a mind of his own, moving without my consent and dodging the heavy beams I sent crashing into the room.

I pulled lever after lever, sending the other me running away, and finally, he ended up trapped against the machine, leaning against it to get away from the heavy beams. I smiled apologetically, and he looked at me in fear. I shook my head and pulled the last lever. A beam came crashing down on top of the other me, and I winced as blood sprayed everywhere, powering the machine and turning the gears. I refused to glance at my destroyed other, only watched the machine as it worked and turned, dripping scarlet onto the ground.

Then the light abruptly went out.

I left the room quickly, sighing in relief when I found the others were still lit. Now would be a great time for me to wake up and leave this dream, I thought to myself. I wondered what had become of the intruder who knocked me out, or whether Alfred was able to get away, but I knew that was impossible and that duty called, whatever this duty was.

The only door I could reach was the one with the other mirror, the one that had the chilling monster skittering around on the floor. I went in, and sure enough, there was that awful skittering and the image of that thing crawling up the walls and across the floor.

I was surprised however, when the moment I walked in, my reflection began walking of his own accord. He dizzily moved to the monster, raised the same shard of glass from the hospital mirror, and stabbed at the monster. He missed a few times as it was very, very quick, but eventually he just stepped on one of its rickety legs and slashed right through its middle. A think, oozy red blood sprayed from the dead thing, and it quickly fell limply onto the ground, no longer skittering or gnawing at the floor. I was vaguely reminded of the red drug that came from a spider's heart, but now was clearly not the time to dwell on such things.

The other me now had stained red hospital robes, and he turned to hazily look at me, the gave me a sort of twisted grin that seemed to surprisingly fit my face _very _well, and again the lights went out.

There was the chilling noise of something creaking, smoothly, like an old metal door being opened in slow motion. I was rooted in place by fear and trepidation, putting my arms around myself as I felt shuffling and movement around me. I gasped at the Earth shattering sound of glass breaking, I even heard it land on the ground directly in front of me. There were crooked footsteps, and the room came back into light.

I was standing in front of myself, one of me serious and sane, the other hazed, and lost. He offered me another shuddering smile, holding out his hand for me to shake, but not saying a word. I laughed shakily, quietly, and took his hand, but instead of shaking it he merely pulled me out of the room and began to giggle. He was laughing, at what I do not know, but the laugh was anything but infectious. I gazed after him strangely as his laughs were becoming louder, his movements more confused, as he pulled me outside the building and onto the pier. He offered me a smiling glance over his shoulder, not matching the little flacks of blood he had stained there, and pulled me further out onto the pier. He giggled like a child and kept moving and dragging me behind at his chosen pace.

The me of the past pressed the button of the underwater lift, and the sliding doors opened on command. He tried pulling me into the dangerous machine, but I kept my ground and shook my head, stating that it was obviously dangerous.

He stopped pulling at me and looked be dead in the eyes, blue on blue, and tightened his grip on my hand.

"What's the whole world?" he said quietly, offering another smile, this one horribly pained in his hazy, drugged state.

I nodded slowly, understanding with only those words, and tightened my grip on his hand as well. This time he pulled me into the lift successfully, with less force and more gentleness. The space was tight with both of us inside and he kept laughing, just wouldn't stop the bloody laughing. Then he uttered a tiny hiccup when the doors slid closed, and his grip on my hand became almost painful. He had steady, salty tears rolling down his cheeks, but he was still laughing at the grim situation we were in. Soon enough the water pressure would become too much, and the lift would close in on itself. Was he fearing the pain? We would live through anything, so what would it matter?

He rubbed at his eyes, giggling, swaying, and pointed to the thick glass window of the lift. I looked through it and saw nothing but green tinted water, and something in the distance. There were more things floating upwards as we descended down into the depths, these things, they almost looked like human figures.

My eyes widened when one hit the bottom of the lift, rattling us a bit. It floated up past the window, and my eyes widened as I gasped and reeled away. Yes, it was a human figure. It was me.

I moved upward when we moved downward, my own dead eyes staring back at my living ones.

"It's only you," my companion said, and he finally stopped giggling, just standing and silently crying. "It's only you, who lives forever."

There was an awful creaking noise as the walls began to dent inward, opening the screws and sending little squirts of water inside the lift. The drugged me plopped straight down into the growing puddle, not minding a bit if he got wet. He was still holding my hand and he drunkenly patted the spot beside himself, ogling at me sadly.

I sat next to him and it dented even more, the ceiling almost invisible now, the chaotic screeching of metal simply refused to stop, calling out to me sickeningly.

The last thing I felt were my own bones cracking, my own skin bruising. The last thing I heard was my own strangled cry not coming from me, and the last thing I saw were my own pale blue eyes ridden and red-rimmed with tears and longing.

O

_Step... step... step..._

I blearily opened my eyes, the first thing I saw being my bathroom door closing shut, and the first thing I hear the footsteps of the intruder going elsewhere in my flat. I felt something animatedly squirming behind me, and felt heavy, panicked breathing.

"Al... is tha' you?" I slurred, still waking up.

There was a surprised gasp and the squirming stopped for a moment. "A-Art! I really thought... I thought you were dead, dude! He hit you real hard, I thought you died..."

I tried to stretch my sleepy limbs, but was unable to in whatever bonds we were concealed in. I laughed tiredly.

"Me? Dead? Ha, no, no, no... you can't kill me so easy..." I could turn my head at least, and I tried to, only to be met with a mop of brown hair in my face. Okay, so we were somehow restrained back to back.

"Wha– but how-"

"Stop asking, we don't have the time." I reprimanded.

I felt him nod slowly. Now more awake, I looked down at my body to find that we were completely wrapped in duct tape. That may sound very strange, but it was true. As if we were in a complete body bag of duct tape together. Our captor had apparently dumped us into my bath tub, and it would seem the tape was stuck to that as well, keeping us in our own porcelain prison.

He kept panicking, squirming and breathing heavily.

"Just calm down, yeah?" I assured.

"Yeah... yeah, okay, I can... I can do that..."

"Duct tape?" I inquired, nudging down to the tape even though he couldn't see me.

"Yeah, he had a bunch of it..."

"Well... maybe we can rip it if we pull really hard?" I suggested in an attempt to calm my roommate down.

"I guess we can try. Don't think it'll do much, but yeah, try..."

We tried moving away from each other, his efforts less pointless than mine as he was clearly stronger, but still pointless in the end.

"It just won't do," I grunted, still pulling. "We're completely wrapped in it."

"We're like bugs... in a web, w-waiting to be eaten... But the spider's not here, he's gonna play with us first..."

"Pull yourself together," I said softly. "and stop being pessimistic. I can't think properly."

There was a long bout of silence, and I could just feel him wanting to squirm, but being unable to. He seemed so scared, it was actually very uncharacteristic of him. There was probably a reason for that.

"Did he hurt you?" I said quietly.

"Let's just say he packs a hell of a punch... head hurts so bad, but I'll be fine... You?"

"Me?" I laughed. "Fresh as a daisy. But I'll surely feel better after we've dealt with this unpleasant guest of ours..."

More silence. He fidgeted behind me, pulling at the tape on his own after we had long given up.

"Do ya... think he's gonna kill us?"

"No he most certainly is _not._" I said confidently. "Don't you worry, I'll figure something out. We just have to wait for him to come back. Sooner or later they all make a mistake."

"Uh..."

"Never you mind that."

"Okay."

I leaned my head forward, my chin resting against the cool surface of the tape. There were still footsteps marching around outside, dealing with some awful matter.

"Art?" Alfred said quietly, jarring his shoulder against mine.

"Hm?"

"Sorry I upset you... I shouldn't have pushed you so hard, ya don't gotta tell me..." he practically whispered. I wondered what his facial expression was in this situation.

"It's all right," I sighed. "Water under the bridge, lad. The more important thing is survival right now. Do you have any ideas?"

"Not really," he said hopelessly. "No, nothing, sorry... You?"

"We should kill the fucker."

"Wh-whoa! Where the hell did that come from? A-and anyway, with what? We're kinda stuck here! Gonna head-butt him to death?" he seemed shock by my change in demeanor, and I really couldn't blame him. On the outside, I didn't look all that threatening. I looked like the kind of bloke who wouldn't utter a single curse.

"I will if there's no other way." I sneered.

"Well, there has to be something, I dunno, a little more helpful... I'm not gonna die here. Not like this."

"No, you aren't, I'll make sure of that. Now what about those lock picks you _always _carry with you? The ones you used to break in?" I suggested, thinking myself helpful at the time.

"Does it look like we're locked in a room? We're wrapped in tape in case ya forgot! How's that gonna help?" he was obviously growing very nervous and skittish.

"I don't know, it's probably sharp. Use it to cut the tape?"

"Still can't reach 'em." he grumbled childishly. "Just forget 'em. Let's think of something else."

I sighed and nodded. Alfred was rather childish, as I had learned these past weeks. He was childish, and he always complained if someone bugged him or he didn't get what he wanted. Underneath that, however, he was very intelligent and calculating, and if he were to become angry, it would surely be a frightening sight.

"Okay, okay," I thought for a drawn out moment, trying to improvise some sort of plan, then an idea struck me. "What if we use this knife to cut the tape?"

"What?!" he said sharply, squirming more. I had to lean my chin down in order to smother a chuckle. "You have a knife?!" Alfred cried, craning his head around but only getting a face full of blonde hair.

"Yes, yes I do." I smiled even though he couldn't see it. "I'm sorry, though, I just remembered I can't reach it." I gave him a sickly sweet smile he couldn't see, and finally allowed myself a small giggle. "So let's just forget the knife and think of something else, okay?" I lied easily.

"Oh, not cool, Art... I actually thought you had one, and ya shouldn't joke about that... s'mean..." I felt him duck his head down.

"It wasn't a joke. I lied, just like you did about the lock picks." I simpered, trying to kick my legs in the tight weave of skin peeling tape. "You don't really have them."

"I ain't a liar! I just can't reach the damn things! Really!" he shouted, apparently not caring if our captor from outside heard our previously hushed conversation. He was becoming restless.

"... Really?" I said.

"Yeah! But apparently my word ain't enough! Ya know, I'll just show ya when we get outta this. That is, if we aren't chopped into little pieces, stuffed into garbage bags, and thrown in a dumpster." he said that last morbid part in a quiet voice, losing his volume and leaning his head down further.

"Maybe it won't come to that." I assured falsely, then laughed. "He might just throw out bodies in the river, or bury them in the woods. Maybe there won't be any chopping."

"Gee, what an optimist."

I snorted and leaned my head down like he had. My bathroom was the same as always. I supposed I wanted to memorize it as it was probably the last thing I'd see, scratch that, the last thing my American friend would see. I didn't like to think about that, however, and continued scoping the off white tiles of the dirty room. I should probably tidy up more, I decided. The bathtub which we were currently contained in had a strange yellow tint to it, as old tubs usually do, and the curtains had it as well. The sink was dripping and I figured that if I were in this mess by myself I would go mad trying to turn it off, as in the current silence it was making an awfully obnoxious thunking noise every time a droplet his the dirty porcelain. There was a single light bulb hanging above us, uselessly turned off, of course. The walls were made up of scratchy faded white tiles, and there was an odd system of pipes portruding from the tub and leading into the wall. I realized that it was just about the only thing we had any chance of reaching, though I had no clue as to how they would help us.

"Maybe we could pull this pipe off the wall?" I suggested, nudging my head the the closest rusty pipe.

"... How the hell is that gonna help us?"

"Stop asking questions and help me." I ordered, already trying to awkwardly squirm/bounce to the pipes. I craned my head and pushed, he did the same. We heard the pipe creaking under the pressure, screeching in protest as we pushed it. We'd probably have a nasty indent or an orange scuff on our foreheads after this ordeal, but if it meant possible escape it was certainly worth it.

The pipe creaked and groaned more, and I almost cheered in pointless joy when it finally came undone.

Almost.

The already weak screws had come loose, completely separating one piece of piping from another, creating a gap. This also created the opportunity for it to spray us both in the face. I was now realizing just how stupid this idea was. We ducked our heads and our hair took most of the spray, though that didn't shield our face or neck in the slightest as it dripped and ricocheted.

Alfred coughed when the spray stopped, and I shook my head much like a wet dog.

"Wow, thanks Art, just what we needed." he quipped sarcastically. "A cold shower."

"Oh shut it."

We were stuck there for a long time after that. It could have been hours of just sitting and shivering off the cold water, not saying a word to each other and just coming to terms with what exactly we were stuck in. After what seemed like the longest time of me mulling over the circumstances, I closed my eyes and sighed tiredly, resting against Alfred's back.

"I used to like roses, you know?" I began quietly.

He came out of whatever thought he had when I said it, making a small confused sound.

"I used to like roses," I continued. "Like everyone else does, perhaps even more than others. See, there was this man... I should have told him from the start I was not interested, I didn't even swing that way... but for reasons I don't even know, I didn't. Maybe I was interested? In a way, probably. Flattered would be a better word. It was ten years ago, I can hardly remember him now. He did that thing every week, because he knew Alice was at work and I was in the flat alone. Every Friday night I'd get roses delivered by a courier."

The American behind me shuffled a bit, adjusting to my weight against his back and rested his head on the cool side of the tub. I pitied him, he was probably sporting a very nasty headache right now from the apparent punch.

"Who's Alice? Girlfriend?"

"My wife. She was a taxi driver, worked every weekend while I stayed home with Peter. Peter, our little son, he was only six months old at the time... well, no, five months and twenty-eight days. He would..." I gave a shaky breath. "He would be eleven now. Anyway, that one Friday evening a courier had delivered a big bouquet of the most beautiful roses."

I heard a phone ringing. Maybe in the flat above or below ours, I doubted it was in my own.

"Usually," I continued. "I would have thrown them away, but I really liked this particular bouquet somehow. They were extraordinary, absolutely stunning, and looked very expensive... I stood there looking at them, mesmerized. I didn't even hear the phone ringing at first, but then I heard It loud and clear, as if I'd woken up from a strange dream, and I knew it was him calling..."

o

_A younger me stood leaning on the side table, gently petting the soft petals of crimson rose that had been delivered to my flat. I stared into their centers, traced along the dangerous stems, and sighed. My head snapped up when I heard the phone begin to ring. I pulled at the collar of my red turtle neck sweater, pacing to the phone. I knew it was him, as it was too coincidental for the phone to be ringing right after they had been delivered and for it not to be him. The courier must have alerted him that the roses had been delivered, yes, of course. I wondered if I should answer. I honestly didn't want anything to do with the man, but... it would be impolite not to thank him for the lovely roses, right? Right, I assured myself. Yes, all I was doing was being polite, that's all._

_I pulled at the constricting neck of my sweater more and picked up the phone._

"Do you like the roses?_" the voice on the other end drawled, as if they were smug about it._

_I thought for a moment, giving them a sidewards glance. "... They're very pretty." I answered vaguely, as if I hadn't just stared at them dreamily._

"I knew you'd like them. Roses. They're beautiful. But not nearly as beautiful as you._"_

_I hid the gasp I had almost released. "I have a family now." I said sternly, as if I was lecturing a stubborn toddler. "I'm sorry but I can't see you again. I've managed to patch things up with Alice, and there's Peter... We're making it work. Our son needs both of his parents. So it's not as if I could just run away with you. Life's not a film with Julia Roberts, you know." I laughed dryly, leaning against the wall and listening for Peter at the same time._

"But sometimes doing crazy things can change your life for the better!_" he argued. I studied a smudge of dirt on the wall as he kept talking. "_Do you really want to be that man who in ten years time realizes he's waster the best time of his life living with a woman he never loved?_"_

_I blinked. "I... look, I love my wife..." Lie, what a bloody lie._

"I can take care of Peter. I told you before. I'll be a good second father to him, if you'd like._"_

"_It doesn't work like that!" I exclaimed. "You know nothing about children."_

"... I'll learn?_" he said hopefully._

_I sighed into the phone and shifted it onto my other shoulder. "Just give up. Honestly..."_

"I could never give up on you._" Oh, for crying out loud... "_Come on, don't be like that... you're breaking my heart._" I almost gagged at the sappy lines meant to lure me in. Honestly, who does this man think he is? We only went to dinner. Once._

"_Oh shut it," I laughed as I said it. "Just shut up, all right?"_

"Yeah, okay... I'm sorry, I got carried away. But please, just think about it. I have time. I'll wait._"_

"_Listen," I reprimanded, hoping he got the full meaning of the word from my tone. "I have to go. It's getting late." I didn't even know what time it was._

"Wait!_"_

"_Yeah?" I muttered, already moving to put the phone down._

"When I call you again next Friday, you will answer, won't you?_"_

_I actually thought about it. I really, and truly did. Was I happy here? Of course I was, with Peter... but sometimes..._

"_No." I said, before my thoughts stemmed into something awful. "I'm sorry but this is over. Goodbye and good luck, sir."_

_I hung up the phone, sighing and fiddling with my tight collar again. This probably wasn't the best thing to wear on a warm Spring day. I looked at the roses again, deciding I would need to do something about them. I would have really liked to keep them, they were rather lovely... but I didn't want Alice to know I had a secret admirer. She just couldn't see them. I could keep them, just away from her, right? Right, I assured myself. I'd need to hide them somewhere where she wouldn't suspect anything. _

_I stroked their petals again, noticing a little flash of white hiding in all the red. I carefully poked my hand in and grabbed the white thing, pulling it out and revealing it to be a note card._

"_One day I know you will say 'yes'." it read. Now I would definitely need to throw this note away, just in case Alice would find it. I took the smooth vase in my arms, cradling it close to my chest and sniffing the sweet smell of vermillion flora. They were simply beautiful. I thought about putting them on the piano, but decided against it. That was just as obvious as the side table. I went to the piano anyway and scoped the room, looking for a replacement spot that wouldn't get me discovered. They would look lovely on the dining table, but that was a horrible idea. Alice had bought it a few weeks ago, and it just felt wrong to put them there because of that. It was a cheap old thing anyhow, would probably fall with the weight of them. We didn't have a lot of money at the moment. It would get better when I returned to week in a couple of months, surely. I entered Peter's room _**(AN: Now the spare/Al's room.)**_. Maybe to check on him or to find a place for the roses, I wasn't sure at the time. _

_He was fast asleep, his long yet so little eyelashes brushing his rosy cheeks softly. He had the cutest baby face that went perfectly with his growing blonde hair that could outshine the sun, resembling my own and Alice's. When he was awake it was an even better sight, his blue eyes and blonde hair could outmatch the cloudless sky. I really, really loved his blue eyes. Or anyone's for that matter. _

_In the corner of the room we had placed one of those cheap self-assembly units from the supermarket, a little shelf. All it was carrying was a lamp. I grinned to myself, setting the flowers down on the little empty shelf. They looked rather contrasting with his blue wall, but it was a nice contrast. It brought out the red beautifully._

_Now I could tell Alice that Elizabeta had brought them for Peter. It seemed a rather innocent lie, if I do say so myself. I doubted she'd notice them anyway._

_I went to leave the room, but stopped at the sight of Peter stirring. I smiled at his sleeping form warmly._

"_I do hope you're dreaming about something nice, Love." I said quietly._

_I ogled at my son for a while longer until I heard the sound of the front door opening and closing rather forcefully, signaling that Alice was home, and perhaps not in the best of moods. It was early for her, she wasn't supposed to be home for a few more hours at least. I wondered why. I gave Peter one last loving look and left his room, closing his door behind me softly._

_The flat seemed oddly silent. Alice apparently was not making a single move, because in the silence I would have at least heard her moving, but there was not a ring to be heard in my little home._

_She was simply leaning against the kitchen counter, tiredly rubbing at her acidic green eyes and slightly mussing up her thicker than normal eyebrows. (Though they weren't nearly as ridiculous as mine, I'll admit.)_

"_You're back early." I said from the door frame. _

_She only looked up, giving me full view of her messed long blonde hair, still held in her tight pig tails. Alice gave me a cold look from behind her clear glasses, almost looking right through me._

"_Is something wrong?" I inquired._

"_Yes, well, let's think about it for a minute..." she said pinching the bridge of her nose. "'Is something wrong?' you say... Yes, Arthur, there is something wrong."_

_I gulped, feeling sweat gather on my neck, but kept a straight face._

"_Didn't you watch the telly at all?" I nearly sighed in relief. "Listen to the radio? Didn't talk to anyone today?" she asked, and I had a feeling it was sarcastic._

"_Wh... what happened?" I asked. "Was there an accident?"_

"_Sure, sure. An accident, you could call it that. But if a guy walks into a busy restaurant during dinner service and detonates a bomb strapped to his chest... then I think the term 'terrorist attack' is more fitting. There's chaos spreading throughout the city. Everyone's panicking. The police and army are everywhere. But you don't even care, do you Arthur?"_

_I gave her a bewildered look, almost huffed. "Of course I care, I had no idea!"_

"_You should pay more attention to what's happening to this country, Arthur." she snapped, standing straight and no longer leaning on the counter. She folded her arms in distaste. "I could have died and you wouldn't even know!"_

"_Did you get hurt?" I replied instantly._

_Alice was quiet for a moment. "... No, not really, but the cab's smashed quite badly. I was just there when it happened. There was smoke... clouds of dust so thick you couldn't see a fucking thing..." _

_She had always had remarkably colorful language, a trait I may or may not have been stuck with from her. I never cursed at all before I met Alice._

"_So I stop," she said. "and all of a sudden some van hits me from the back. I hear my passengers screaming and shouting and there's blood on the rear window..." Alice chuckled dryly, shaking her head and running a hand through her golden hair. "And just then another car drives right into us and we're all stuck in that mess, nobody knows what's going on, but imagining this might just be the end of the world. But no. It was just some geezer with a bloody bomb. They closed all the main streets, in case there were more of them."_

"_What time was that?" I asked calmly._

_She wouldn't stop looking at me as if everything was my fault. Her green, green eyes bored straight through me, as if I was insignificant to everything. I knew this was just how she acted, and not how she really felt. She was never one to show her real feelings, always listening to her head in an attempt to ignore her heart. I could tell she was really scared._

"_Probably around 7 PM. I spent another two hours trying to get someone to tow the damn cab to the garage. Would you believe our insurance doesn't even cover this sort of thing?"_

"_You should have called me..." I nearly whispered._

"_I did," she quipped. "four times. You didn't answer."_

"_I must have been-"_

"_Yeah, yeah. You were busy with the baby. Every time it's the same old story." she sighed, probably trying to calm herself down. She seemed to do that a lot lately; sighing. "We've still got that wine in the fridge, haven't we? Get some glasses. I need a drink."_

_I nodded lowly, wanting to slink back in my own shadow. Why was she so intimidating all the time?_

"_All right. I'll get the glasses. You get the wine." I said. Then again, she was looking so haggard and worn. "But... are you sure you don't want to take a shower first?"_

"_No. I just need a drink. I can wash later." _

_I nodded at her again, worrying at my bottom lip and going to the cabinet where we kept our new and clear glasses. I opened the glass door and picked two, noticing I was trembling slightly. I wondered when I had become so weak. Surely, as a man, I wouldn't be afraid of my own wife... no, that certainly wasn't the case. I must have just been tired, yes... Alice always got like this on bad days, it would soon pass after she had calmed down. Things would get better, I would just need to grit through the bad parts._

_The phone rang again. I inwardly scowled, but kept up a calm demeanor. What is it was him again? I couldn't have Alice answering if that was the case. No, that just wouldn't do._

"_Are you going to get that?" she called from the kitchen. "If it's Angie, tell her I'm not here. I don't want to talk to them tonight."_

"_Yes, of course." I called back, briskly walking back into the hall and setting the glasses down on the side table. I picked up the house phone and held it to my ear._

"_Hello?"_

"It's me again. I'm sorry but..._" Oh bloody hell. I quickly turned away from Alice so she wouldn't see my expression, trying not to look suspicious at all. She eyed my strangely. "_... I had to hear your voice again. I love you._" Oh would this man ever quit?_

_I said nothing into the line, feeling Alice's eyes on me. She couldn't hear what was on the other line, unless she was listening very hard, and even then it would be messy._

"Arthur?_" he said. "_You still there? Please, say something, anything..._"_

"_Thanks," I chirped with false happiness. I could feel my sweater becoming constricting again. "Thank you, but we're already insured with someone else."_

"I... excuse me? Arthur, it's me. The only thing I'm trying to sell to you is my heart-_"_

"_We won't be needing pet insurance either!" I said, my voice becoming higher the more nervous I became._

"What are you talking about?_" the man on the other end questioned._

"_Would you like my wife to talk to you?" I said shakily, trying to give this idiot the obvious hint. "She's just come home from work. She usually deals with insurance companies."_

"_Oh will you just put the phone down?" Alice muttered, completely ornery. "Once you start talking to them, these insurance bloodsuckers will never leave you alone." I didn't reply to her._

"Oh, oh I see... I'm sorry Arthur... Should I hang up?_"_

"_Just hang up, Arthur." Alice repeated. She left the room to re-enter the kitchen. I sighed in visible relief._

"_Have you gone mad?!" I hissed into the phone. "This could have been a disaster!"_

"How was I supposed to know?_" he defended. "_Where is she now?_"_

"_In the other room. I can't talk. Just wanted to say... Just wanted to say that you've let me down. I'd never forgive you, or myself if she found out like this..."_

"She didn't._"_

_I grimaced, pulling at my collar for the umpteenth time that day. "I'll tell you one thing, sir."_

"Yeah? What is it?_"_

"_I've had enough of this." I hissed. "Just leave me alone."_

"Whoa! You change your game quickly, don't you?_"_

"_Leave me alone, okay? I've got enough problems here. I don't want your damn love." I laughed dryly. "There's most likely no such thing as love, anyway. Bye."_

_I hung up the phone._

_O_

The dripping of the sink still hadn't stopped, but I'm sure neither of us noticed. Our captor still hadn't come for us, even after such a long time. Now I was sure it had been hours since we were first placed here.

"That's when the arguing started." I said. "It slowly grew into something bigger, something horrible."

The duct tape was beginning to sting. Whenever we would try to move, it would pull painfully at our skin, almost peeling. When we didn't move, we would become numb.

"Stupid remarks and old grudges mixed with alcohol," I continued. "Turned into some sick exchange of pointless accusations. It really wasn't the first time we argued, but... but it was the last..."

o

"_Just look at the state of this old place," Alice complained. "It's such a damn mess! Listen, I know you're with Peter all day, but it's not like he's still a little baby! He's six months already! I was off maternity leave a long time ago! You'll have to organize your day a bit better and get things done. If other stay at home parents find time, why can't you?!"_

"_Alice, you're drunk." I stated obviously. "Get off my case, alright? Look, I understand you've had a very bad day, but it's not my fault that the bomb had gone off and your car was damaged. I'd really like you to calm down now. I'm sure we can sort everything out, we always do." I said gently._

"_Well, that's what you think." she drawled, taking a long swig of wine._

"_Oh, really." I blinked, turning to look straight at her. "And what do you think then, Alice?"_

"_What do I think? Oh so it matters all of a sudden what I think! Well, I'll tell you, sure." she gave me a mock grin and glared at me, somehow at the same time. _

"_I think you're a lazy arse, Artie. You do nothin' all day, while I keep working to provide for this family. I think you're trying to shift the responsibility on me, like you always did. I think you use the baby as an excuse for everything." she accused sharply._

_This set off an alarm in my mind. Don't poke the bear, Arthur. But I did anyway._

"_And I think you're being horribly rude." I stated primly. "How dare you accuse me of such things?"_

"_It only takes one look at the flat to see it's all true."_

"_Let me go," I condemned, wanting to get out before it got out of hand. "I have to check on Peter. I left the window open in his room. He might be cold."_

_Alice remained quiet as she was still leaning on the wall, taking another bellowing swig of wine as I brushed past her into Peter's room. I put mu hand on the door handle, beginning to turn it slightly._

"_Oh, that's right. Just walk away." I heard Alice growl. "That's all you ever do. You can never finish anything."_

_I turned to her sharply, trying to glare her down with icy blue eyes. It apparently had no effect on her burning forest green. Oh how I was beginning to loathe green eyes..._

"_If there's one thing I don't want to finish, it's this stupid conversation." I replied with my hand still on the silver handle._

_Alice stood from her position, striding up to me with an air of arrogance._

"_And why not?" she simpered, her smile looking sickening. "Are you afraid that I actually might be right? Are you scared of facing the truth? I'm sure Peter's fine. It's the hottest summer we've had in years."_

_I glanced at the door and bit my lip._

"_It will be good for him to have some fresh air in there, won't you agree?" she said._

"_I... I guess... fine, never mind. But Alice, I haven't done anything wrong!"_

"_Of course not!" she shouted, startling me. "Because you're the fucking perfect person, aren't you?!"_

"_That's not what I said!"_

"_Well if you're so perfect- yeah? Then why are we here now, fighting?! This is all messed up-"_

"_You're behaving like a five year old!" I cried. "What on Earth is wrong with you?"_

"_You!" she shrieked. "You always knew which strings to pull, to tip me over the fucking edge!"_

_Her face was becoming red. It could have been from the alcohol, or from anger, but I couldn't gauge a difference. All I knew was that she was accusing me of things I did not do, and that at this rate, we would surely wake Peter._

"_Don't be nasty," I said. "I'm doing all I can." _

"_Are you really?!" she cried. "Okay, doing all you can... you obviously care about your wife, coming home after a hard day at work... she's going to be hungry! But wait, where's her dinner? Oh, let me guess- you didn't make it because you were too busy changing nappies, and singing, and playing, and washing?"_

"_Yeah, I think so. And I'm not going to feel guilty-"_

"_It's not your bloody job!" she yelled. "You should be going out and getting a job, or something! If anything, I should be the one staying home, not you!"_

"_Well if you spent more time with our son yourself you'd know how important these things are! We can't just leave him to a babysitter, someone has to do it! So, pardon me, there's no dinner for a hard working parent! From now on, she's going to have to cook for herself! Because, you know what? The husband is working just as hard, and he's really tired of being treated this way!"_

_Alice scoffed. "Well he'd better get used to it, because this is just the start. There are going to be some changes around here! I'm fed up of being pushed around by you! I put the bread on our table, don't I? And if you can't be the damn man of the family, then I'll make the rules! I'll get the respect I deserve!"_

"_How can you talk to me like this?!" I cried. "You're treating me like dirt! Didn't you forget something?! I'm your husband! The father of your child! Does that mean nothing to you?"_

"_A husband and a father? Why don't you start acting like one?! When was the last time you showed me that you cared about me?! All you ever talk about is the baby! I love him to bits too, I swear I do... But I want to have a husband, too!"_

"_Oh, I knew it. Is that what bothers you so much? Is it?"_

"_Of course it fucking bothers me! Does it not bother you that we never have time for each other?!"_

"_Look, Alice," I calmed. "We are new parents. It's always hard. All couples go through it, so I hear."_

"_Well fuck this then."_

_I blinked._

"_I heard different." she said._

"_I'm done talking to you." I dismissed, turning to Peter's door again and eying the handle._

"_Of course you are," she nodded sarcastically. "That's what you always do. You run out of arguments, you stop talking to me, then you lock yourself in the bathroom and fucking cry like a hormonal teenage girl. I'm sick of repeating the same old thing over and over again!"_

"_Then why won't you give me a break, for God's sake? You're acting like I've done something terrible! I don't even know what your problem is... is there something you're not telling me, Alice?"_

_She glared daggers at me._

"_You'd know if you listened to me. But you never listen to me, do you?! Not to a single word I've ever said!"_

"_Right, right," I breathed. "Here we go... it's not you, it's the alcohol speaking. I shouldn't be taking any of this seriously. I know tomorrow you'll be apologizing to me for it!"_

"_It was just a couple of glasses and you had some too!" she shrieked and grit her teeth. "I'm not drunk! But I wish I was... maybe then I could laugh at this shitty life and not care so much..."_

"_Oh that's a good one," I quipped. "You really care so much, Alice, you should get a medal or something."_

"_I thought you said you weren't going to talk to me anymore? Oh you're just full of shit... full of shit..."_

_**(AN: Wow, such a great insult. Better add that one to the book. Also I'm sorry about Fem Iggy.)**_

"_Why don't you look at yourself?" I hissed. "You keep picking on me for nothing."_

"_No, no. This was coming and you knew it."_

"_If you're so unhappy with me then what the hell are you still doing here?" I snarled. "Pack your bags and leave me alone."_

_I turned away from her imploring stare again._

"_You're throwing me out?" she said calmly, then, she nearly screamed. "This is my fucking flat! I worked my fucking ass off for seven years to buy it! I'm not going anywhere-"_

"_Stop it." I'd assumed that my glare was finally a match for hers, as she reeled back a little when I said it._

"_Stop it?" she breathed. "I've... I've only just started. We should finally say to each other what we really think, yeah?"_

_o_

_The blue curtains flew wildly in Peter's room, fleeing from the window but always coming back for a few minor seconds. The roses stirred in the gust as well, a few petals lost and thorns dancing. _"We hadn't even noticed the storm had started. I was so absorbed in the stupid fight that I forgot all about the open window, anyway... and the roses, those fucking roses, right there, by his bed..."

_Peter began to stir. It was a mere gurgle at first, a small sound that surely wouldn't be heard out the door. A few stray raindrops flew in from the window, welling the carpet like tear stains. _

"He had some rare allergy to pollen, but we couldn't have known that. How were we supposed to know? It's rare... he started coughing... and... choking..."

_Peter's little gurgles turned into weak coughs and sharp breaths, crying out to his fighting parents, but not getting an answer. The pollen filtered through the room like gaseous poison, stopping the baby's breath and making him wheeze. The sound probably would have been heard, had the two outside not started shouting, yelling, and screaming. Even his father who was determined not to wake him began to yell, and his cries were falling on deaf ears._

_The coughs wouldn't stop, nor would the breath start. It was all the time that was needed for his parents to fight, all that time to become weaker and weaker._

O

"The next time we saw him... When we found him... he... He was..." I shook my head, willing myself not to cry over this issue once again. "After two days of what seemed like a narcotic dream, Alice had gone out and never came back again." I sighed shakily. "They found her nearly a week later. She drank herself dead in the woods. I nearly didn't recognize her when I saw her in the morgue... It really was a hot summer. She looked... bad."

My tone was completely flat, it had become that way about midway through the tale. It happened every time I had to talk about this, or think about it. I would just close myself off and forget it had ever happened. I was also trembling, I noted, no matter how hard it was to do under the sticky suction of duct tape. My body was almost completely numb now, and my back hurt something terrible.

"A-Art... I..." Alfred choked out. "Thanks for telling me... now I get it... I get why you're always so sad-"

The bathroom door slammed open. We both snapped out gazes up. I was able to look directly at our captor, still wearing the sunglasses and carrying the hammer. Al had to crane his neck, and even then couldn't see him. The intruder's expression was blank, like the walls of a new house. He was being completely apathetic and without emotion at all, or perhaps hiding his sick pleasure under his thick sunglasses.

"What do you want from us?!" I had the nerve to shout at him.

When he didn't answer, Alfred got the nerve to as well. "You deaf or something?!"

"No, Al, I'll handle this-"

"Let us go right now you asshole!" at this rate, the idiot was going to get himself killed and I would still be stuck here.

"Alfred!" I hissed.

My calculations were correct. The mystery man took a razor blade from his back pocket, and began to cut the tape, separating us. We both sat silently with baited breath, silently planning to make a run for it the moment we were free. But instead of being free, it only revealed another separate layer of tape, wrapped around us individually. Sure, we were able to squirm more now, but that didn't mean we could do much else. Just because we were ow separate didn't mean we were free. I watched in horror as the man quite literally slung Alfred over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He and I instantly squirmed like helpless little caterpillars to a large hawk. This man was tremendous is he was able to hurl Al over his shoulder like that, who was already sturdy by anyone's standards.

"You leave him alone!" I cried, trying my best to look intimidating though that wasn't the easiest thing right now. "Don't you dare! Just take me instead!" I was growing frantic. This man would not listen to reason. He was already moving to leave the bathroom pocketing his razor blade and stepping away from the tub. A new piece of tape was placed on my friend's mouth, not letting him speak at all.

"Take me..." I repeated to no one after he had left the room.

I was right, the sound of the droplets falling into the sink was headache inducing without someone there to cancel out the noise.

Over the expanse of these past months, weeks, however long it had been since this story had began, I had felt anything but helpless. At first, during the time I was stuck in the hospital, I had considered this immortality thing a gift. But at the old mansion where that demon Feliciano lived, I had felt it a curse. It made me endure horrible pain, but at the same time, it allowed me to exact the perfect revenge. And now, even with the face that I was completely immortal, I was helpless. My friend was out there, yes, I could call him my only friend, probably being brutally murdered, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.

It was storming outside, just like it had been that day so long ago. I heard the thunder and it thankfully stopped the endless dripping for a short while, but not long enough. I almost felt the lightning hit the ground a few seconds later as well, but it could have just been my imagination. Then the lights went out in my flat, most likely an effort of the storm.

I sat in depressed and contemplative silence for the longest time before there was a small sound in my flat. Not just any sound, but a distant creaking. The sound of hesitant footsteps and then another kind of creak, the sound of a door opening. The bathroom door was opening once again.

In the darkness it was rather difficult, but I recognized the face of our captor, signaling that it was my turn. I also noticed that he was not covered in blood, which at least was a good sign, but I couldn't be sure of anything.

"If you hurt my friend..." I growled, and for some reason my voice was shaking horribly. "I... I will..."

Before I could say another word, he set about cutting the tape still constraining me with his box cutting razor, eventually freeing me with minutes of effort.

When I was free, he stood away from me, looking down at me still sitting numbly in the tub. I slowly and shakily stood, becoming used to the process again. With the added height of the bathtub I was able to look him straight in the eye, that is, if he wasn't wearing those stupid shades.

All he did was turn and leave the bathroom, leaving me to my own devices alone and free.

"What...?" I said to myself. _What's going on?_ I added as an afterthought. He was letting me go? Just like that? I worried for Alfred, wondering what had become of him.

"Where's my friend?" I said to the man's back. "What have you done to him?"

He left the bathroom and I followed after in the darkness of my flat. There was nothing notable in the hall outside the bathroom, nothing horrific. I hesitantly moved into the living room, preparing myself for the worst.

What I got was not the worst, but it certainly was not the best either.

He was still alive, that much was certain, and thank God for that as well. He was still completely wrapped in tape from neck to toe, and he still could not speak, nor could he see. He was stood on a chair with a loose rope looped around his neck. The rope was connected to the ceiling with a liberal amount of duct tape, obviously the killer was readying to have him hanged. I knew he was alive because he was still heavily squirming, and a few bruises showed that he put up one hell of a fight. He was also giving several muffled shouts.

I rushed past our intruding psychopath, but he was too quick for me. He grabbed my by the back of my shirt, holding me back with brute strength that I certainly couldn't match. He actually had the nerve to growl like a caged animal, and the noise didn't sound very human.

"You're sick." I snarled at him. "What is it you want me to do?!"

The lightning and thunder screamed once again, very, very close to the building. He just growled something under his breath.

"I don't understand a word you're saying!" I snapped.

All he did was roughly turn me around and pointed to my piano, eying me through his dark glasses. He pushed me back, forcing me into bench. I looked at him with bafflement. He pointed to the keys and nodded.

I slowly nodded as well, watching the hostage American from the corner of my eyes, and began to play a little tune. It was a deep melody, one that matched the storm that I couldn't place the title of. The sound of the keys echoed through the flat, the building, the bravado of the deep notes may have even reached outside.

I heard the calling of the cats, of course I did. They always came around when I played. I heard the pitter patter of their little paws on the fire escape, quickly climbing up the grated stairs. Alfred had stopped squirming, but he was still very tense.

The cats meowed and called, hissed and whined, coming from all different directions and padding my way. It was a big gathering this time, I could tell. There were more calls than usual, and they always were rather fond of the deep songs. The thunder yowled again, but they didn't seem to mind it, they were used to this weather. I heard them pattering on the escape, on the ledges, on the roof, I had grown accustomed to hearing them from several kilometers away.** (AN: Almost said miles here. Oopsie.)**

They were just near the window now, but they were stopped by something. Our attempting murderer turned his attention from me to the window in a split second, and I heard a single hiss from the crowd, and it sounded very much like Teacup. In that split second the pounced on the man, tens or dozens of them, all hissing, scratching and biting. He let out another monstrous growl as he fell to the ground, bleeding out of fierce feline inflicted wounds and writhing in pain. I stopped playing the music and the cats continued to attack, actually becoming very, very violent and gruesome. I won't go into details, but blood was quite literally splattering on the wall and the man was falling silent. It would seem they came for dinner, and were determined to get it.

I heard a sharp clatter and looked up, noticing that one of the cats got a little too excited and knocked over the chair supporting Alfred. I gasped, knocking over the piano bench in my panic and sped over to him, not knowing what to do at all. He was swinging and squirming pathetically at the same time, slowly becoming weaker. I panicked internally and pushed the chair back up and pulled him up to stand on it. He was heaving and panting, and I could tell that if he were able to he would be coughing as well.

"Stand still," I warned and assured at the same time. He did as he was told and stood on the chair, trembling and wheezing. "I'm going to be right back with a knife and I'll cute you down, all right?"

I left to the kitchen and hurriedly picked a sharp knife, coming back and stepping over the mess on my carpet.

I cut the rope first, relieving any threats to his life. Then I cut away at the tape little by little, listening to the commotion calm down behind me. I gently peeled the tape off of his face, freeing him completely just as I was.

He nearly fell down on top of me, but I was able to support some of his weight. He leaned on my heavily, coughing and panting, looking down at the spectacle on my carpet with horrified red eyes.

"They're... they're _eating _him." he breathed.

I nodded slowly.

"This is... I..." his voice shook.

"Just don't look," I said.

"Don't look."

o

**Yummy right?**

**Have a nice time.**

**I do not own The Cat Lady, Hetalia, or the designs of the 2p characters.**


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